Secrets
by CanonShipper
Summary: Hermione has been dating Harry for two years, despite her feelings for Ron. She seems pretty content with this situation until Harry asks if she's ready to go to the next step. What she and Ron do next has the potential to destroy the famous trio forever.
1. Innocent No Longer

**A/N: Enjoy the story! **

**This chapter has been edited.**

_Secrets_

Chapter I: Innocent No Longer

My father had been afraid that this sort of thing would happen someday. That I would invite a boy over to visit and would sleep with him while he and my mother were gone. I had been so surprised when he had agreed to let me have Ron visit for the summer. I think the only reason Ron was permitted to come was because my parents knew that I had been dating Harry for the past two years. They didn't think anything would happen.

Well something _did _happen.

_It _happened.

I slept with Ron. I lost my virginity. My innocence is gone.

Right now I'm undressed under my bed covers with Ron's arms around me. Part of me feels like a dirty traitor. How could I do this to Harry? He's a good guy--no, _man, _and has always treated me with respect and affection. He takes care of me, makes me feel protected, and shows me nothing but love. Part of me can't believe that I let this happen.

But then part of me can. I have always known that I don't love Harry. Not in the romantic sense. Even though the world may insist that Harry is the one for me, the one I'm meant to be with, I haven't fallen in love with him. I'm not meant to be with him. If I am, then why is it that Ron is the one taking my breath away? The circumstances may pick Harry but my heart picked Ron. I can't help it that I love him, and I'm thrilled to have been so fortunate to have had sex for the first time with such a wonderful person, that I happen to be so madly in love with.

I don't feel as though I lost my virginity to the wrong person. It felt so right when we gave each other up. It was wonderful, and I love him. _So _much.

The funny thing is that I didn't realize how much I loved him until we did it. Well, I think I always knew I loved him, but I kept thinking that I had a silly crush on him and pushed my feelings to the back of my mind. But the truth is I love him more than any other person on this planet.

I'd give up _anything _for him. He makes me feel like I can be my true self around him. Like I can do something stupid and he won't judge me. Like he'd accept me even I if was the world's ugliest being. He's so completely wonderful. He's funny, he's kind, he's loyal, he's happy, he's determined, he's sweet, he's caring, he's handsome, he's _perfect. _I think I'd die if anything ever happened to him or if we ever stopped being friends. He means the world to me.

It's a shame he doesn't know this. We didn't have sex because we looked into each other's eyes and felt an urge to kiss each other, then got carried away. Ron and I had sex because I begged him to. That is why I invited him for the summer and neglected Harry. I asked him to sleep with me because Harry and I had agreed that when we got back to school, we would finally take that next step. But I was afraid. I was afraid that Harry was not the guy that I should be sleeping with for the first time. Afraid that I would not be able to please him if I did sleep with him. Afraid that I would mess it up. I needed experience.

So I asked Ron to help me prepare for Harry. Ron is theguy I trust most in this world, and he's the only one I'd even _consider _asking for something like this. He didn't understand my reasons for asking and still doesn't. He still thinks that I love Harry. When I asked him if he would do this for me, he thought I was crazy. He finally saw how serious I was and told me he needed to think about it. I asked him for this favor last April and we had been planning it since then. We talked and talked and _talked _about it until we finally set it up.

It would be at my house, during the summer while my parents went to a dentistry convention for three weeks. Harry would not be invited. He would never find out. He would never find out about the visit and would never find out about the sex.

_The sex._

I can't stop thinking about it. It was the most amazing, most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. . .

**(F)(L)(A)(S)(H)(B)(A)C(K)**

The atmosphere was perfect. The night was pitch black, the stars were out, the air was sweet, the lights were dimmed, the bed was soft, and the window was open.

Ron sat next to me on the bed. He held my hand and looked into my eyes. I shivered as his crystal blue eyes stared into mine. They were full of anxiousness and excitement.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked for the umpteenth time since I had first asked him.

I nodded. "Yes," I whispered.

"And you're aware of everything you're risking?" he questioned. "Your relationship with Harry? Your friendship with me--?"

"You and I will be friends no matter what happens." I said, cutting him off.

"I hope so." he said quietly.

I shook my head vigorously and hugged him. "I know how big this is, but you've got to stop thinking like that. I would never let you and I stop being friends. _Never." _I reassured him.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him. We stayed embracing each other for a few moments. It was almost as though we were silently agreeing that this was it.

There was no turning back. I took in his boyish aroma as he held me, and felt slightly aroused by his vibe. He released me and kissed my cheek. He looked at me seriously, then he smiled.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm really excited." he said with a laugh, but I could detect a hint of shame in his voice.

I giggled. "Me too."

We laughed a little too hard after that and then got really quiet, after the thought of betraying Harry entered both our minds. We were silent for about two awkward minutes, avoiding each other's eyes.

"So," he said nervously. "Should we, er, start?"

I smiled bashfully and nodded. "Yes."

I lied back on my sea of pillows and smiled up at him. He looked so handsome with his baggy jeans, white tank top shirt, and unbuttoned manly blouse. His hair was really neat. It wasn't long and it wasn't short. It was just really neat. All the hairs fell in just the right spots. It looked adorable. His skin was slightly tanned, which suited him as it brought out his eyes and matched his hair. He was quite the heartthrob.

He lied down next to me and pulled me close to him. I felt his hand caress my cheek and move down to my neck. He pulled my head gently closer to his and kissed me.

As soon as his lips made contact with mine a surge of extreme heat spread throughout my body like wildfire. He was kissing me gently, softly, slowly, timidly. Our tongues made very little contact but our lips were caressing each other ever _so _intimately. . .ever so slowly. . .it was so romantic.

My face was beginning to get very hot after only a few moments. My lips felt like they were on fire. I felt my heart beating so loudly and hard against my chest, that I almost couldn't hear anything. I couldn't breathe. I needed air.

I cut off our kiss very abruptly and grabbed my chest. It felt like I had just come up from water after hours.

Ron looked me, confused and concerned as he watched me breathing so intensely and deeply. "Are you alright?" he asked. I caught my breath and looked at him. He looked upset. Disappointed.

"Yes I'm fine." I gasped, still a little short of breath. "I'm just nervous."

He smiled at me knowingly. "Are you absolutely positive you want this?" he asked, _again._

"Yes Ron." I responded honestly. "I've never wanted anything so badly."

He looked into my eyes again, and I could see that he didn't believe I was so completely sure about this. I worried that he might change his mind.

"Are you sure that _you _want to do this?" I asked, turning the question around on him.

He looked at me sharply. "I'd do anything for you." he said. "You're my best friend and I would die for you."

That wasn't the type of answer I was looking for. I was looking for a nod or a "Yes." Not an answer full of charity.

"Yes, but are _you _ready to lose your virginity? Do _you _want to have sex? And most importantly, do you want to do it with _me?"_ I asked with slight desperation. What if I had planned this without him wanting to go through with it in the first place? "I know you said you're excited, but please be serious."

He sighed. "Hermione, I wouldn't want to lose my virginity to anybody else. You're the girl I know most in my life, and I care about you more than anybody. Besides, I don't trust any other guy other than me handling you."

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist. He pulled me so close to him that there was hardly a gap for us to be available to breathe. He enveloped my lips in a slow kiss again.

His tongue massaged mind with a sweet gentleness. He maneuvered it perfectly, as though he knew what my tongue was about to do before he made his move. Our lips took each other in with such ease and comfort that it felt as though they were made for each other. I felt his grip on me loosen, and felt him get the hair off my face with one of his wonderful hands. He put his hand on my neck and pulled me even closer.

His kissing was so sweet and cute and _good_. It made me feel like I was thirteen again and was getting kissed for the first time. I felt goofy. There were butterflies in my stomach fluttering like mad. I couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Ron stopped kissing and looked at me curiously. I shook my head and pulled him in again. I kissed him a little harder this time with slightly more speed. As he kissed me with such perfection, I couldn't help but wonder who had taught him how to kiss so well. I knew he had had girlfriends, but how much time did he spend practicing? He was an expert, practically.

Our kissing was getting heavier. Our breathing was getting louder, and our tongues were moving more intensely, but still very slowly. I think Ron likes slow kisses better than fast kisses. I like both, but when I get into it, then speed can't help but get faster. I kept trying to speed it up, but he kept slowing it down.

It felt like _heaven._ Every time I'd get really heavy and would start to pick up the pace, his tongue caught mine and turned it all the way back, to the opposite direction that it was originally going. It tickled and made me throb. I was starting to get fast again, but he caught me and winded my tongue back again.

I moaned with a sigh.

He rolled on top of me and began to kiss me _slower_ than we kissing before. He was _torturing _me. Why was he doing this? _How _could he do this? Didn't he have the need to kiss me faster too? Hiskissing skillswere a gift from God. How could hedo it so perfectly? How could he massage my lipswith such expertise? I pulled him down by the neck harder.

He continued to kiss me with his slow pace. I had to practice extreme self-containment. He wouldn't let me kiss him with the quickness that I wanted, and had me squished beneath his body. He was licking my tongue, and sliding my lips between his. I was moaning and groaning in agony. We kissed forwhat seemed likean hour at that pace, and by the endI was shaking and throbbing and out of breath. My body was sweaty and aching from being under his built body for such a long time.

He began kissing me more intensely than he had been kissing me that entire time. He was bringing his tongue more and more into my throat, he was moving it slower than ever, and my lips were captured in his. He finally brought his tongue so far back that I had to lift my head a little to bear it. He ended the kiss, making me moan louder than ever. A surge of liquid suddenly escaped my area.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, saying something for the first time since we started.

I smiled and nodded my head. He lifted himself off of my body, and helped me sit up. My muscles were sore already, and we had only been kissing. I couldn't help but feel a bit pathetic.

I also couldn't help comparing Ron and Harry. They were both very sweet and wonderful, but very different. Harry never tried to keep a slow pace. He went with the flow. Ron controlled the flow, as though he knew what would be better later on. Harry did not have much instinct and simply moved his tongue wherever it went. Ron was very intuitive and always knew what my moves are going to be. Harry tends to talk a lot when kissing. Ron doesn't talk at all. Harry doesn't like looking into my eyes. Ron does. Harry causes meto feelaroused. Ron causes me to feel butterflies.

"How do you feel?" I asked Ron, who staring into space and taking deep breaths.

He looked at me in the eyes again, making me shiver. His eyes were hazy. He looked unsure about something, and again I got a worrying feeling. I couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"Great," he said. It sounded like an honest answer. He smiled at me. I sighed with relief and smiled back.

He picked me up and sat me on his lap. He kissed me lightly on the lips and whispered, "Are you ready?"

I nodded. I could feel the nerves rising. This was it.

He began to unbutton my blouse very slowly. I was looking at him the whole time. He seemed happy, but there was just something else in his eyes. . .What was it? Was it the guilt of feeling like a traitor to Harry? He was on my last button, but before he unbuttoned it, I kissed him suddenly. He looked surprised by my sudden spontaneity.

I smiled at him and took a deep breath. He unbuttoned the last button and gently slid the blouse off my body. He stared at my bra and my chest for a moment, looking surprised. I rolled my eyes. Contrary to popular belief I am not a small size. I just prefer to hide the existence of mybreasts.

He glanced at me as though asking for permission. I nodded, letting him know that it was okay. He put his arms around my back and unhooked my bra. I was very pleased to find that once he took it off I didn't feel uncomfortable about him seeing my body. He handled it very well, also. He just smiled a sincere smile at me.

He began to kiss my neck and caress my body. I could feel the tickling sensation from the kisses he was spilling on my neck and the gentle touch from his hands on my back and chest. It was incredible how much at ease I felt with him. I was beginning to feel that Ron is the only guy who possesses the right to touch me like that. He knew just how treat me, and just how to please me.

As he started to kiss and lick my breasts, I began to remove his clothing. I took off his blouse and shirt and admired his body. Ever since he had joined the Quidditch team his physique had definitely improved, and I had no (and still don't have) complaints. I took my time kissing and touching his body.

He pulled me close to him and started kissing my neck again. I did the same with his.

I was getting so caught up in the intimacy we were sharing that words just started spilling out of my mouth without control.

"You're the most wonderful guy I've ever been with. . ." I said with a moan.

"Shhhhh. . ." he whispered. He was kissing me all over, and was concentrating on making love to me.

I suddenly could not stop talking.

"But it's true. . ." I gasped between the several kisses I was spreading on his chest.

"Don't say that," he said, as he laid me down on my back.

I frowned. "Why not?" I asked.

"You're in love with Harry." he responded.

I opened my mouth to say that I wasn't, but before I could even start a sentence he placed himself on top of me and began to kiss me. Fast this time.

He kissed me with passion and lust, with fire and life. He expertly maneuvered his tongued around my own and trapped my lips into his. I tried to keep up with him and made my tongue battle with his. They clashed and spilled onto each other. It was wonderful. We kissed with the same passion for what seemed like ages. We started to slow down our pace, but the intensity of our intimacy was getting more and more heated. He continued to kiss me, but I felt his hand go down to the zipper of my jeans.

We sat up again and shared one long, slow, passionate kiss before finally taking the last step. Our lips separated. Ron unzipped my pants, and I assisted in pulling them off. I then unzipped his jeans and took them off with his help. We looked at each other and shared one last smile. I slid off his trousers as he kissed me with very deep intensity. He took off my underwear, and again, I was so happy to realize how comfortable I felt with showing myself to him.

We took a few moments to admire each other. I wasn't disappointed.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was a big moment in my life. I was no longer a child. In a few momentsI would no longer be pure.

_I'm ready. I want this._

I laid down on back as an indication that I was prepared. Ron hunched himself over me and blew me a kiss. I kept my eyes closed. I heard this was painful the first time.

"I'll be gentle." I heard Ron say softly.

I was breathing deeper than I ever had before, and I could hear Ron doing the same. I felt Ron getting himself ready, and before I knew it, it happened.

_Ow._

Ron had pulled in and it certainly had been painful. Incredibly painful. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but he had seen it.

"Sorry." he whispered. He truly did sound sorry.

I shook my head. "Don't worry."

He started to slowly move his way around inside me. The pain was still there, but I was enjoying it anyhow. As he pulled in and pulled out repeatedly, I began to get used to it. But suddenly it was as though I had finished having an epiphany.

Ron and I were together. We were united by our bodies. We were sharing an incredible bond. It felt like something spiritual had just happened. Ron and I were _together._ We were no longer virgins. We had given each other up. We had shared an incredible act of love and unity.

I opened my eyes and saw Ron. He seemed emotional too. But he didn't seem sad by any of it like I feared he might. He seemed happy. But there was still something strange in his eyes. Something I couldn't decipher.

He started to work his body faster. The pain was starting to go away and was being overshadowed by pleasure. When he entered my body it felt like nothing else in the world. It was wonderful. It was _miraculous._ Both he and I were starting to get very sticky and wet.

I started to moan and so did he. He was starting to move faster, but not too fast either. The quicker he went the better I felt. The better I felt the louder I moaned. The louder I moaned, the louder he moaned. The more we moaned the faster we went. It was a cycle.

The moments passed by and we kept getting sweatier and sweatier. We kept switching positions. We kept kissing. We kept having sex. Frankly, we just had one heck of a night.

**(E)(N)(D)(o)(F)(F)(L)(A)(S)(H)(B)(A)C(K)**

We stopped having sex after a couple of hours. I don't know exactly how many. The time flew by. But since we started at around midnight, topped two hours ago, and sunlight is streaming into the room, I'm guessing we were at it for a while.

Ron's arms tighten around me. I smile and kiss them then snuggle closer to him. I love the feel of his body. I love _him._ I wish we could do this every night for the rest of our lives. I'm pretty sure that Harry would never be able excite me in such a strong way like Ron. No other man is capable of making me feel euphoric madness.

I sigh.

But I'm Harry's girlfriend, not Ron's. I still have to remain loyal to him. He can never find out about this. Ron and I are going to have to make an incredible effort to keep this quiet.

But I don't want to keep it quiet. I want to shout out for the world to hear that Ron and I had sex and that I am in love with him.

I sigh again.

I can't do that. Ron doesn't even know I love him. I can't just blurt my feelings out like that. Especially with the circumstances I'm under. I just hope I can handle this next year at school.

I kiss Ron's arm again and close my eyes.


	2. I Trust You

****

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the second chapter! Sorry for taking so long to update. Also, the point of views switch from Hermione to Ron with each chapter.

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Secrets

Chapter II: I Trust You

". . .if you're not okay with it, I could go straight to Pegging and tell him that I'll be fine sleeping in my regular dorm this year," I say to Harry. "I really don't need a fancy dormitory. I can survive with what I've got. I mean, this is heaven compared to what I sleep in at home."

Harry sighs, puts his face in his hands, and shakes his head. "No Ron," he says. His voice is muffled against his palms. "You deserve to have that 'fancy dorm.' You worked hard to become Head Boy, and you should enjoy your benefits to the fullest."

Even through the seriousness of the conversation we're having, I can't help but feel a mixture of indignity and pride. "I didn't work _that _hard. . .I'm not Percy."

Harry looks up at me. "I wasn't accusing you of being like him."

We stay silent for a few minutes. I return to packing all my belongings in my trunk. Howard Pegging, our new Headmaster, told me that I didn't have to pack, and that the house elves would do it for me, but I want to have everything organized, or _dis_organized, the way I like it. Pegging is an alright man. Ever since Dumbledore's death last year, things have been crazy and sad at this castle. Even the Slytherins miss Dumbledore's wisdom.

Pegging isn't the great Headmaster that Dumbledore had been, but he is very fair and kind. I have faith in the man. Since Dumbledore's request was that if something were to happen to him, Pegging was to become Headmaster, I trust him. Dumbledore trusted him, after all.

I can feel the muscles tensing in my jaw as my next thought enters my head. _I'm not like Percy._ I say that every time someone comments on an achievement that I've made and happens to be an achievement that Percy also made. Percy died the same night Dumbledore died. I try to tell myself that Percy deserved it, but I can't. He was my _brother. _No matter how snobby and selfish he was. No matter what side of the war he was on. He was still my brother. I still cared about him when he turned evil.

I shake my head roughly. Percy wasn't _evil._ He was just stubborn. Wouldn't believe his own family. Thought he was right all the time. He just trusted the wrong people. I can't help but be ashamed of him. I didn't cry when I found out he died. I was having a hard time not crying, but I wouldn't. He deserved it.

__

No. He. **Didn't!**

I shake the thoughts of Dumbledore and Percy out of my head. I look at Harry and notice that he's been staring at me while I pack. He looks away when I catch him. Even though he acts like he doesn't mind that Hermione and I will be sharing a dorm and common room for this last year, I can tell he doesn't love the idea. He might not be killing himself over it, but I know that this must bother him a little at the very least. I can tell by the faraway look he gets in his eyes when we start talking about it.

We've been here at Hogwarts for a week now. I think he can tell something is strange about Hermione and me. We've (Hermione and I) have been acting as normally as we usually do around each other. At least as normal as we _can _be around each other. It's not that I think Harry heavily suspects something, but I think he knows something is out of place. When he asked me why I never answered the letters he sent me to the Burrow, I told him that I was sick. He told me that Ginny wrote back for me saying that I was at a Quidditch camp (which was what I had told her to tell Harry when she saw him at the start of term), and that was when he first must have picked up the strange vibe.

Sometimes he sort of looks at me and Hermione, opens his mouth to say something, but then he shakes his head and stays quiet. I know he must think something is weird. I don't know how he knows. Hermione and I have been pretty normal, like I said. Maybe we can't hide it. Maybe Harry isn't really noticing anything and I'm just being paranoid.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Harry asks me, looking at me as though I'm crazy.

I realize that I'm frowning. I've probably been making faces at my things for the past five minutes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say. I put my favorite Quidditch books in my trunk and close it. "There."

"Ready to go then?" Harry asks. He sounds cheerful and excited. And I think he genuinely feels that way. "I'm dying to see what this famous dorm looks like."

I grin. "Me too. But I need to get the key from McGonnagal first."

"Key?" Harry asks me. "Don't you just have a password like everyone else?"

I shrug. "Guess not."

As I walk around the dorm I've had for six years and take the rest of my things scattered around the floor, I can't help but feel a little sad. I pick up my broomstick polish from the floor, stand up, and look around. "I'm gonna miss this place. And you guys, you know?"

Harry nods. "It's not gonna be the same," then he says, "But it'll be better for you."

We talk and laugh about the old days for a few minutes, then there's a knock on the door.

"Ron? Are you in there?" It's Hermione's voice.

I open the door and let her in. She looks as pretty as always. She greets me with a smile and looks around the room.

"Oh, hi Harry!" she says, when she notices he's in here. "I thought you were out flying?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I remembered Ron was moving out and decided to help."

"Though you really haven't helped that much." I tease. He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

"Well, it seems that you've gotten done anyway." she says, observing my overloaded trunk and empty side of the room. "I'm glad you didn't leave your chores to the elves."

Harry and I exchange a look.

"Did you finish packing yet?" I ask.

She nods. "Actually, I've already moved in. I just came here to give you your key. I picked mine up earlier and decided to do you a favor."

I smile at her. "Thanks," I say as she hands me a while envelope labeled **Key.**

She shrugs. "No problem. Just be sure to keep all your belongings separate from mine. I'll be out all day. I'm tutoring a group of first years, and I promised one of them a tour of the castle if he does well." she explains. "I expect to find everything exactly the way I left it."

I nod. "Don't worry."

"Did you already unpack everything?" Harry asks her.

She shakes her head. "No, but I left everything organized very neatly."

"Why don't you take advantage of today to settle in?" Harry questions. "It's Saturday. Can't you tutor them tomorrow?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you really expect me reschedule a tutoring session?"

Harry and I roll our eyes.

"I'll see you both later." she says. Before she leaves kisses Harry lightly on the lips and pats me on the shoulder. She closes the door behind her upon exiting, and Harry and I look at each other.

"What a nut." I say, shaking my head. "I still don't understand why anyone would _voluntarily _tutor a group of annoying brats." Even though I say this, I smile. It's Hermione's caring nature that makes me love her so much.

Harry sighs. "Yeah, but that's why I love her."

My eyes dart at his direction when he says this. For a second I thought he was reading my mind. Whenever I'm around Harry and Hermione, I feel that I can't think about Hermione because of this reason. Harry and I seem to have the same thoughts. The only difference is, he can say them aloud. Most of the time, when this happens, I feel that Harry can see right through me. I have always thought, and still think, that deep down Harry knows how I feel about Hermione. I don't know if he's fully aware or if he completely believes it, but I think he knows.

Whenever we talk about girls and my love life and Hermione's name comes up in the conversation, he sort of hesitates and then changes the subject. Sometimes I think he feels threatened by me. And hell, after what I did this summer, I don't blame him.

The dormitory door opens again, letting Seamus in. He looks around sadly and shakes his head.

"Can't believe you're moving out." he says with a whistle. "It's gonna be weird without you."

"Well, at least I won't have to deal with Neville's snoring anymore." I joke.

"Lucky you." Harry and Seamus say in unison.

"So are you excited about your new dorm?" Seamus asks me.

I nod.

"It's probably like it's own castle." he says. "The bathroom is probably huge, with a swimming pool for a tub. And the toilets are probably golden."

Harry and I smirk.

"_Wow. . ._golden toilets." I say, pretending to be awed.

He rolls his eyes. "And the common room is probably like twice as big as ours. And your bed is probably like a king's bed."

The three of us start speculating what the place will look like. We put all our wildest dreams into this dorm I'm going to have. Harry and I think that the bathroom will probably be life the prefect bathrooms.

"So Harry," Seamus says after we finish our speculation, "how do you feel about this pervert sharing a bed with your lady?"

He says it as a joke, but we don't find it funny. "We won't be sharing a bed." I say. "We'll each have our own."

"Yeah, but I'm _so _sure you'll abide by the rules," he mocks. "Actually, the rules don't really say that you can't do a little something, something in bed--"

"Cut it out." Harry snaps.

"Sorry pal." he says. "I'm just warning you. Ron may be your best friend, but he's a guy, and a guy is a _guy _no matter what. You guys know all we want is sex."

He thinks he's being funny and he's laughing. Harry and I look at each other. I can tell from the glint in his eyes that this thought has crossed his mind once or twice.

"Well maybe you'd screw Dean's girlfriend, but I doubt Ron would touch mine." Harry says. "Right Ron?"

It sounds like he's looking for serious reassurance. I look at Harry again, but look past his eyes and instead at the wall behind him. "Yeah." I say, in what I hope is a confident tone.

"Yeah right." says Seamus sarcastically. "You'd sleep with Hermione in a heartbeat. We all know you have wet dreams about her. We hear you moaning her name in your sleep all the time. . ._Hermione, oh, Hermione! I love you Hermione! I want to kiss you Hermione. I want to touch you Hermione. Can I fuck you Hermione?"_

For one horrifying second I thought he was being serious about me moaning in my sleep, but he started cracking up. Harry looked as though he was making an inhuman effort to control all his anger. His face was beet-red and his fists were clenched.

Seamus notices this after he finishes his laugh-fest and rolls his eyes. "Don't take it so seriously." he says. "Can't you take a joke?"

"No." Harry growls.

"That's not funny." I snap.

Harry and I leave the dorm with all my belongings. Harry slams the door shut.

****

(L)(A)(T)(E)R

The walk to my dormitory is seventeen minutes long from the Gryffindor common room. It's a pretty damn long walk. Especially if you happen to carrying around a heavy trunk. Harry and I don't talk the whole way there. He's still mad about what Seamus said. I think he's a little worried too. I don't blame him.

We reach a golden gargoyle with a keyhole in its throat.

"What a charming place to put a keyhole." Harry says, as I put my hand in the statue's mouth and twist the key. The gargoyle slides over and we step through the hole.

The first thing we see is the common room. There's two of everything. Two comfortable sofas by a warm fireplace, two desks with chairs, etc. There was also one work table. The room was _not _larger than the Gryffindor common room. It was much smaller. There were portraits all over the walls. The room seemed to be decorated specifically for Gryffindors. The carpet was red with gold designs all over it. It was a very cozy room.

There was a door leading to the bathroom on the far left side of the room.

"Let's go see it." I say excitedly. Harry follows. I open the door and am very pleased with what I see. It looks very much like the perfect bathroom. There _is _a pool as a tub, and the toilets do surprisingly have golden toilet seats. Harry and I snicker when we see that. The marble floor is pearly while and flawless. There is also a pentagon-shaped shower all the way in the back. The sinks are beautiful. There are fuzzy white carpets on the floor and portraits of mermaids and goblins on the walls.

"Lucky bastard," Harry says punching me on the arm.

I'm glad to see that he's lightening up. We go to the dormitory and see that there are two beds, unlike what Seamus thought. I see that Hermione has claimed the bed by the window. She has four boxes on top of her bed and her trunk at the foot of it. The beds are big, and they have curtains around them, which is good, because I don't want Hermione staring at me as I sleep.

The room is pretty normal, contrary to what I and everyone else thought. It seems as though everyone at Hogwarts thinks that the Head Boy/Girl quarters are good enough to serve for royalty. All there really is, is privacy, more space, and a nice bathroom.

I open up my trunk and start to unpack. "Kinda weird," I say.

"What's weird?"

"All this new space. . .my new dormitory." I tell him.

Harry hesitates. "Well, do you like it?"

I shrug. I don't want to make a big deal about it. I know Harry doesn't like the fact that Hemione's my roommate.

"You can be honest." He says. "I'm really not mad about the Hermione thing."

"Don't listen to Seamus," I mutter. "He's an asshole."

"I know." he says. "But I really am okay with you two sharing a dorm."

"Really?" I ask.

He laughs a little. "Of course! You guys are my best friends. I know you wouldn't do anything to betray me."

Guilt hits me with a pang as he says his last sentence. A little too late there, Harry. . .

"I know how you guys act around each other, and it isn't exactly flirty. I know how you treat each other and how you interact, and I'm not worried." he continues. "Besides, if I can't trust you with Hermione, who am I going to trust with her?"

He has a point.

"Besides," he says with a laugh, "even if you did try to hit on Hermione, she wouldn't let you. If I can trust Hermione for one thing other than being smart, it's being faithful."

More guilt hits me. Harry is so clueless. If only he knew.

"That's good to know." I say, rolling my eyes.

"I mean it." he tells me seriously. "I trust you guys."

****

(L)(A)(T)(E)R

Harry helped me unpack for about an hour, then he decided to go out and work on some Quidditch tactics. Ever since I had been named Quidditch captain Harry has been working extra hard to get better. I don't know why, but it feels like Harry and I have an unspoken competition going on.

It's eight thirty and Hermione finally comes. I'm in the dormitory unpacking the last of my things and putting them where they belong. Hermione comes in looking very happy.

"Had a good day?" I ask.

She smiles. "Professor McGonnagal noticed how much progress a few of her students were making and decided to comment on my tutoring sessions. And I finally got Oscar Rendall to prepare a perfect numbness potion."

"That's good." I say.

"So what do you think about this place?" she asks with a huge smile still on her face. "I think it's wonderful. There's lot's of room to do all the things I need to get done."

I nod. "Yeah, it's great."

It didn't come out very enthusiastic. Hermione looks at me with a frown. "Something wrong?" she asks.

I hadn't been in a very good mood ever since my talk with Harry. We spent the entire afternoon talking about Hermione. He kept reassuring me that he was okay with the idea and that he wasn't worried, but it seems to me like the reason he kept saying it over and over was to reassure himself.

"Harry and I talked today." I say.

She freezes. "Oh my God!" she says in a panicky voice. "You didn't tell him, did you? He didn't find out, did he? Oh my--"

"'Mione calm down!" I say, a little irritated. She always jumps to the same conclusion. "I didn't tell him."

"Oh." she says, turning a little pink. "Sorry."

"It's okay." I say. "It's just that he really trusts me."

She stays silent and sighs.

"He says, he'd trust me with his life. He says he wouldn't want any other guy to be your roommate." I say.

"Would you imagine it any other way?" she asks me quietly.

"No," I say. "It's just that I feel really bad about, you know."

She sighs again. "I feel bad about it too."

"Do you regret it?" I ask.

"Regret what?"

"Sleeping with me." I say.

She's silent. I don't know why I asked that. I have been curious about that ever since we did it. I just want to know if she just used me. She still hasn't said anything after five minutes.

"You don't have to answer that." I say.

She looks at me sadly. "Listen, it doesn't matter whether we regret or not. We did it and it happened already. All we have to do is act like everything is normal."

"But things aren't normal." I murmur.

She turns and looks at me swiftly. "Stop saying that." she says quickly. "It's almost like you don't want to try."

"Want to try what?" I ask.

"Hiding it!" she exclaims. "Do you _want _to tell Harry?"

I don't answer.

"Well?" she demands. "I need to know Ron!"

"I don't know." I snap. "You know, it feels like the only way to be able to act normal around Harry without trying is to tell him."

"If we tell him, there won't _be _a Harry for us to act normal around!" she says desperately. "He'd never forgive us. He'd hate us. Please Ron, just try."

I look at her. Her beautiful face is pleading.

I nod.

"Thank you, Ron." she says, and then hugs me. "We'll make it through, don't worry."

I wasn't listening to what she was saying to me at that moment. All I was aware of was that she was in my arms.


	3. Not Ready Yet

**A/N:**** Hey guys. After almost seven months of waiting, I'm finally updating this story. I promise updates won't take that long for this or any of my other stories. I really like this fic so far, I hope you guys do!**

_Secrets_

Chapter III: Not Ready Yet

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror.I look the same as I did yesterday. I knew I would, but there's like a rule that says I should look at least a _little _different. Or rather, _feel _a little different.

Today is September 19th. My birthday. I'm eighteen today, which means I've officially come of age in the Muggle world. It feels more monumental that my birthday did last year, which most definitely has to do with the fact that I was raised in a world were '18' was the big number.

Harry feels the same way.

Ron doesn't. Last year he made a big deal about my birthday, and he thinks it's a little silly for me to be hyped up about it this time again, but that's because I didn't tell him last year that I really didn't care about turning seventeen. The only thing that made that birthday special was the fact that I could Apparate (after my test, of course) and was free to do magic outside of Hogwarts.

I snap out of my reverie and examine my profile again. My hair's curly (as it has been getting over the years) and falls to a little below my shoulders. Other than the little pink dot here and there, my skin is mostly clear. I haven't gotten taller since I was fifteen, making me somewhere around 5'4. My eyes are medium-sized, light brown, and with a kind expression. My lips aren't too big, but not too thin either, and my teeth are no longer huge, instead pretty small and sparkly white. My chest is an ample size, although I'm thin have a pretty much flat stomach.

I smile, feeling satisfied. I'm no longer a dorky, self-conscious adolescent. I'm a decently good-looking, intelligent, and confident young woman.

However, I still feel the same way as I did yesterday morning when I went through this same procedure. Sure, today is important, but not all that important, either.

Today, I'm officially a woman, but in my _heart _I was a woman the moment I gave myself up to Ron. . . The fact that I am now a year older doesn't give me that impression now. I've felt that way for a couple of weeks now.

I sigh, stepping out of the bathroom and making my way to the dormitory. I see Ron making his bed and notice a wrapped present with an white envelope attached on my bed.

"Good morning," I say cheerfully, "I see you finally decided to wake up."

He gives me a smile. "Happy birthday, you're finally eighteen," he says walking over to me and giving me a hug. "I put your present on your bed. I didn't think you'd be out of the bathroom before I left for Quidditch practice."

He lets go of me and I give him a smile, wishing more to kiss him than to just give him a friendly gesture.

"I hope you like it," he says, as I step towards the present and start to unwrap it.

I finish unwrapping it and see that it is a dark brown, leather-bound photo album with the word _Memories _written in red, glittery ink on the front. I smile as I turn to the first page and see another set of words on it. It read:

_The Old Days,_

_The New Days,_

_The Good Days,_

_The Bad Days,_

_All hold smiles,_

_All hold laughter,_

_All hold hugs,_

_All hold kisses,_

_All hold scowls,_

_All hold quarrels,_

_And all hold dilemmas._

_They're made up of moments,_

_Moments to cherish,_

_And moments to regret._

_Regardless, we should hold onto the moments,_

_And the memories that make life a life to remember._

"That's sweet," I tell him after reading the words.

He nods and shrugs. "I didn't write it, though. That's how it came."

"Oh," I say, feeling slightly disappointed. "Well, it's nice anyway."

I turn to the first page and notice that the photos begin in second year. "Did you get these from Colin?" I ask.

He nods with a smile.

I examine the photos, in awe as to how much I changed. I look like a child, in the pictures. With a face possessing an expression slightly more adult than a normal twelve year-old, but still an expression tremendously more innocent than the one I bare now. I notice that the first couple of pages consist of pictures of Harry, Ron, and I, then they consist of pictures featuring Harry and I, first with friendly postures then with more romantic poses, then they move onto pictures of me and Ron. I linger on those pictures. In a few we look slightly annoyed with each other, in others we look amused, and in some we just seem to be doing our daily activities. Even in the simple photos where we're doing our homework or just sitting by the fire, my crush on him is apparent, as my eyes flicker at his direction every couple of seconds.

"Who took these?" I ask, pointing to the ones of him and I.

He shrugs, looking over my shoulder. "Harry took a few last year, but Ginny took most of them, though. Fred and George took some, too."

I smile as flip through the photos, remembering the good days and some days I'd rather forget. I feel his breath on my neck and realize he's looking over my shoulder. I turn to look at him and we lock eyes for a moment.

"I love it," I say warmly and quietly. I feel nervous being so close to him.

He nods. I should turn away at this moment, but I can't quite bring myself to turn my attention back to the photos. His eyes flicker from the photos to me, and I come to the realization that we've locked eyes for too long for it not to be awkward, but I can't seem to turn away. I'm not thinking. I really want to kiss him. Without thinking I start to lean my head on his shoulder, and he starts to bring his lips closer to mine. We almost make contact when a sudden knock on the door of our headquarters snaps me back to reality.

Without looking at him I rush to the door, a million thoughts and emotions running through my mind. What did I almost do? What did _he _almost do? And why?

I open the door and panic strikes me as I see a happy Harry standing there, smiling and holding a gift of his own. For a split second it feels like he arrived he at this moment because he knew what had almost happened.

"Hi Harry!" I say breathlessly.

"Happy birthday," he says warmly, stepping inside and kissing me on the lips. "I hope you like the gift. I looked in so many shops to find something nice."

I walk over to my desk, set on the right side of the room and start to unwrap my present. I stop when Harry says, "Hey Ron! How're you doing?"

Ron nods at Harry an says simply, "Pretty good. I'm gonna go out and practice a bit. Wanna join?"

"Nah, not today," Harry replies, "I'm spending today with Hermione."

"Well, okay." Ron says. "I'll see you guys later. Happy birthday again, Hermione."

I look after him as he leaves. Why did I have to love him so much? Why couldn't I love Harry? I sigh and put on a small smile as I unwrap Harry's present. Inside I see a small box. I open it to find a simple gold locket with my name engraved on the front. I turn to Harry and give him a smile.

"It's pretty," I tell him, noticing that he has already put a picture of himself inside it.

He nods. "It's a great locket. I have one just like it." he shows me a locket identical to mine except with his name on it, hanging around his neck. "They're connection lockets."

I look at him questioningly. "Connection lockets?"

"They let us feel some of our thoughts and actions." he tells me. "Like, whenever I'm thinking about you, your lockets gets hot. Whenever I'm angry you, your locket gets cold. There's a paper in there explaining all the features."

I take out a small piece of red parchment and read:

_True Love Lockets are a wonderful new invention_

_for old and young couples. Not only do they _

_provide the nice, warm feeling of knowing_

_when your lover is thinking of you, they_

_also provide the reassurance and security_

_of a faithful and loving relationship._

**Features:**

_Hot Locket: _**Your partner is thinking of you**

_Tickling Locket: _**Your partner is flirting with someone**

_Cold Locket:_ **Your partner is angry at you**

_Warm Locket: _**Your partner has just thought about their love for you**

_Vibrating Locket: _**Your partner is being unfaithful**

_Shocking Locket: _**Your partner is crying over you**

_Piercing Locket: _**Your partner is taking their locket off**

I finish reading the list and swallow slightly. My eyes stay at the vibrating feature. _Your partner is being unfaithful. _Is Harry suspicious? Sometimes I think he feels uncomfortable. Even though Ron and I have only been sharing these headquarters for about two weeks, it seems like he's slightly more possessive of me. He even asked Ron why he was looking at me last week. He asked it in a calm, friendly tone, but I think there was more to it.

I look at him. "How come most of these features are negative signs?"

He shrugs. "I hadn't read all of them," he avoids my eyes when he says this. "Aren't they neat?"

I feel slightly annoyed. Even though Harry has every right to be insecure at this point, I still don't appreciate him trying to keep watch on me at all times, by giving me a sneaky gift. "They should be called 'Spy Lockets'." I say, somewhat jokingly, even though I'm completely serious.

He looks down at the floor. "You don't like it, do you?" he asks, slightly wincing.

I sigh. "No, I like it. It's just. . ." I'm about to tell him that he should trust me more, but I can't seem to do it. I truly don't deserve trust.

"What?" he asks, putting his arm around my shoulders.

I shake my head and smile again. "Nothing," I say. "Thank you, Harry. I really like it." I take the locket and put it around my neck, securing it with its clasp.

He takes my chin and give me a kiss. "I have a date planned for tonight, so get ready at about eight."

I nod.

"Look, I have to go right now," he says, "I have to prepare for you."

**(L)(A)(T)(E)(R)**

By the time Ron gets back from practicing, I still haven't gotten ready for my date with Harry. It's seven, and I've spent all day thinking about Ron and Harry. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to Ron, and I feel pretty much exposed. I feel like he knows how I feel about him now, which is relieving in a way, but horrible in another. If he knows how I feel about him, he'll either love me back, or tell me we can't be together. Well, we _can't _be together. I just don't want to hear him say it. If he says it, none of the reasons I have for that conclusion will make sense.

Ron and I can never be together for the simple reason that I'm with Harry. Even if Harry and I broke up for some reason, Ron and I becoming a couple would not be an option, only because it would make Harry uncomfortable.

I wish I had figured out that what I felt for Ron was more than a crush before I'd said yes to Harry. I think I always knew subconsciously. I _had _asked him to have sex with me after all. The reason I had asked him for that wasn't even for what I'd told him or what I'd been telling myself in the beginning. I asked Ron to sleep with me because I knew that if I lost my virginity to Harry I would always regret it. I had wanted my first time to be special so I went to Ron. I can't even believe that he bought my reason for that "favor."

The moment Ron walks into our common room I go to him, determined. Yet nervous. "Ron I need to talk to you," I say before he can avoid me.

He sets his broom down on his desk. "About what?" he asks casually.

Is he really going to play this game? "What happened before--"

"Forget about it," he says, cutting me off.

I frown. "Forget about it?" I ask, slightly disappointed.

He looks at me in the face and nods his head seriously. "Yeah. Forget about it."

"But why?" I ask, feeling let down. I had been hoping that if we talked about it. . .something would slip.

"Because if we don't, things will get more complicated than they are now," he tells me, in the same, serious tone. "It was nothing anyway. Just a silly moment."

I say nothing for a few seconds, letting the disappointment sink in. Then I nod. "Alright. You're right. Let's not talk about it."

**(L)(A)(T)(E)(R)**

I didn't get dressed very fancy for my date with Harry. In fact I went in my school uniform and my robes. I simply hadn't had the time to find nice clothes that I would feel comfortable in. My uniform was the only thing I could find that would make me feel cozy. Plus I've been in a gloomy mood ever since my talk about _not _having a talk with Ron.

Harry doesn't mind, though. He says that's why he loves me.

Currently, we're in the Room of Requirement, which has been transformed to look like a romantic, private restaurant. We finished eating our food about ten minutes ago and now we're just chatting. The date has been going pretty well so far. We're in a happy mood and everything feels just right. Well, except for my conscience.

"So how's it feel to be eighteen?" he asks me.

I shrug and smile. "Pretty good. I don't feel much different."

"It'll probably take a while to sink in," he says. "That's how I felt."

I roll my eyes jokingly at him. "Well, you had about a million other things sinking in at the same time. Including freedom from your aunt and uncle and the fact that you saved the world," I say warmly.

"True," he says with a laugh.

I look at him and examine him. He looks so great lately. He seems happy.

"How do you feel now?" I ask. "About life."

I immediately see his eyes fill with emotion. It seems like his heart is getting bigger and bigger as he tries to describe how he feels. His eyes even seem to moisten a little.

He sighs a big sigh. "Better." he says, nodding his head. "Normal. I can live now."

I smile at him, feeling happy and take his hand. "Finally everything we've all worked for has been achieved. And I'm so proud of you."

Even though I'm not in love with him, I _do _love him like my own brother. All the obstacles and dangers and turmoil we've been through the years has been trying to protect him or trying to defeat the Dark Lord. Now that we have to worry about neither, I'm ecstatic for him.

After a few minutes of quiet he squeezes my hand. I look at him.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Hermione," he says, "Have you thought more about our relationship?"

Panic and dread slowly start to penetrate through my body. I nod. "Yeah, I have."

He seemed to be planning his words out very slowly. "And have you thought about what I told you last year?" he asks.

I stay quiet.

"About taking going to the next level?" he asks slowly.

I nod. "Yeah," say, slightly hoarsely.

He looks at me, expectantly.

I don't know what to tell him. I don't want to sleep with him. I bite my lip. "I think I need more time. . ." I tell him just as slowly.

I can tell he's trying not to look disappointed, but I see a flicker of it in his eyes, anyway. "Well, that's alright. I'll wait."

I sigh. "I just don't think it's right yet."

"Well, can I do anything about it?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, Harry," I say. "Just let me think."

**A/N:**** Please review. It gets better.**


	4. Conversations

**A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long! I'm a very busy girl, and I tend to forget about this. I deleted my other story 'Reaching for Love' because I just didn't like it all that much, and I really, really want to focus on this one.**

**The POV, has once again, switched to Ron.**

**And sorry if my writing in this chapter seems a bit. . .simple. Most of it is made up of dialogue, and I have trouble not rushing conversations.**

_Secrets_

Chapter IV: Conversations

I hear the gargoyle of the common room opening and see Harry and Hermione step through it and approach me. They join me at the work table I'm sitting at and start to take out their books and other school materials. They were supposed to have been here about twenty minutes ago. We agreed to meet each other here to do homework. Lately the three of us hardly ever get to spend any time together. We're always doing our own thing. Hermione, in particular, is always busy.

Sometimes I think she's avoiding me on purpose.

"Hi Ron," she says, with what sounds like a false happy tone.

Harry greets me too and I notice that he also has the same fake note of happiness in his voice. They probably got into another argument. Lately Harry and Hermione have been really tense during the little time they spend around each other. It started after Hermione's birthday. Sometimes when they're speaking to each other it seems like one or the other wants to scream at the other and tell them to drop it. Drop what exactly, I don't know. I'm not sure I want to, either.

"Where were you two?" I ask, examining them more closely. They both look out of breath. Like they're been running or something. They're a little sweaty, too. Wonder what they--

_Oh_. . .gross. I feel confusion sinking into me immediately. Obviously they were making out. . .but then why are they so moody?

"Just walking around the grounds," says Harry dishonestly. "We let the time get the best of us."

"Ah," I say, pretending to believe him. I glance at Hermione who is glaring at Harry as he's not looking. She catches me staring and I give her a questioning look. She shrugs. I raise an eyebrow.

"What?" she snaps, irritated.

I feel slightly taken aback. Although, I'm happy that she obviously did not have a fun time kissing Harry, I can't help but wonder why. I know that she's been feeling guilty lately. Sometimes I'll catch her glancing from me to Harry and sigh. She even puts her head in her arms occasionally. During the evenings now and then she looks like she wants to talk about something serious with me but then she'll think the better of it.

"Nothing," I say defensively. "You just look annoyed."

"Well, I am," she snaps. She gets up from the table, leaving all her belongings behind, and storms off to the dormitory.

I look at Harry, who has his eyes rolled.

"What's wrong with her?" I ask him. "Did you get into a fight?"

"I don't even _know _what her problem is!" he bursts. "She's been angry with me like this for weeks, and she's got no justification for her feelings! I mean, _I've _been pretty annoyed with _her _as well, but at least I have a reason!"

I sit there, surprised and bewildered. What the hell is going on?

"Why are you angry with her?" I ask.

He sighs. "Well, not angry," he tells me. "More like frustrated."

"Why?"

He looks at me for a moment. "I don't think she would appreciate me telling you about our private business," he says.

"Oh," I say, disappointed, but somewhat relieved that I don't have to listen to their love problems.

He repeats his sigh. "But I swear Ron, I have to tell someone."

Great. Part of me really would not like to hear this. But then again, if Hermione is getting hurt and angry because of Harry, I want to hear this. It almost feels like it's my responsibility.

I nod, allowing him to continue.

"She should know that if I would confide in anyone, it'd be you, shouldn't she?" he asks, seeming to struggle with the decision of whether or not to tell me.

"I guess," I say.

"But it's just that for some reason I don't think she'd want you to know, in particular," he continues.

I frown at this. "Why do you think that?"

He shakes his head, his eyes in deep thought. "I don't know. It's just a feeling."

"Well, if you're not sure about whether or not it's such a good idea, then just keep it to yourself for now," I say, making the decision for him, "but I just want to know one thing."

He looks at me expectantly.

"You're not pushing her, are you?" I ask.

He frowns. "Pushing her?"

"You know," I say, "putting pressure on her to. . .do something?"

He stops and thinks at this. "I don't think I am."

"You don't _think_?" I ask. "Aren't you sure?"

He, again, sighs. "Well, I told her last year that I was ready for the next step and that she was free to let me know when she was. On her birthday I brought it up again, and she told me she still wasn't ready," he tells me. "I haven't brought it up since."

I hesitate a bit, not knowing if I should ask or not. What the hell.

"Is that what's been frustrating you?" I ask in a low voice, looking at the dormitory door.

He nods. "It's just that I don't understand her, Ron," he says desperately. "It's not like we haven't known each other for a long time, it's not like we're children, it's not like I've ever hurt her. She says she trusts me and that she knows I would never mistreat her, and says she still isn't ready for it. I honestly don't think that she _does _trust me with her. . ."

"She trusts you," I say, looking at the floor. "She loves you."

"She tells me she does, but then why is she still unsure? What do I have to do and how long do I have to wait for her to be ready?" he demands.

I shrug, feeling guilty as a murderer in court. In truth, I can't come up with a good reason either. The whole point of her and I getting ourselves into this situation was so that she could supposedly be ready for Harry.

"Maybe she's scared," I say after a while. But why would she be scared if she trusts him?

"But why would she be scared if she trusts me?" he asks, again making me jump slightly as he voices my thoughts aloud.

"Girls are like that," is the only answer I can come up with.

He shakes his head, seeming annoyed once again. I look down at an essay I've been writing and pretend to proofread it. I feel Harry staring at me, but refuse to look up.

"Ron," he says after a few minutes tick by.

"What?" I ask.

He looks at me without saying anything. He opens his mouth slightly and closes it. He takes a deep breath and says, "Do you think she's in love with someone else?"

I swallow and frown. "No, of course not, Harry." I say. "You can trust her."

He looks down, then glances at me again. "I don't know. She's been acting a little odd ever since the beginning of this year."

"Has she?" I ask, genuinely surprised. I thought she was doing a pretty good job hiding everything. Well, before she got so moody with Harry, anyway.

He nods. "Yeah. She's really jumpy sometimes. Like I'm giving her the third degree or something. Like she's got something to hide."

"Oh," I say, avoiding his gaze, "I haven't noticed."

I turn back to my essay and start where I left off.

"Well, she's been like this for a while," he presses on. "You really haven't noticed?"

I shake my head, scribbling out my last sentence.

He's quiet for a few seconds, and I can tell he's examining me again. I try my best not look nervous.

"What about during the summer?" he asks. "How was she acting?"

"Pretty normal," I answer, dipping my quill in ink. I feel Harry staring at me for what seems hours. I look up at him, and am surprised to see that he looks like I just punched him in the face. I frown. "What's wrong, mate?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing," he says in a hollow tone. He gets up and leaves.

**(S)C(E)(N)(E)**

After my talk with Harry, I feel slightly bewildered. I'm concerned about his sudden departure. I'm also a little worried about his habit of staring at me like I'm a strange portrait. Whenever he does that, I feel like he knows everything.

I get up from the table and walk into the dormitory. I find Hermione lying on her bed staring at the ceiling. She looks so pretty, and I feel a knot in my stomach tighten and the urge to get closer to her surge through me.

"Are you okay?" I ask, forcing myself to stay put.

She looks at me and smiles slightly. "Sorry for snapping at you," she says sadly. "It wasn't your fault I had a bad day."

I nod. "It's alright." I say, accepting her apology. "What happened, anyway?"

She sighs.

Harry and Hermione do that a lot.

"I just don't know what to do," she says, with the same desperate tone Harry had in his voice. They really are made for each other.

"About what?" I ask, acting clueless. I sit on my bed and look at her. She really does look great with her lips all full and her uniform all messy and her hair all curly. A mental picture of her body on top of mine flashes and another jolt of excitement flows through my body.

I feel sickened by myself. This is very serious. And yet all I can do is think about her and me doing stuff. . .

"I just feel so guilty," she says, in a tone close to tears and her hands over her eyes. "I'm a terrible girlfriend. And I'm a horrible friend for bringing you into this."

I shake my head. "I made my own decision, Hermione. Maybe it was the wrong one, maybe it was the right one, but either way I was the one who chose it, and you have nothing to do with it."

She groans. "If I hadn't made the proposition you wouldn't have had to even _make_ a decision!" she uncovers her eyes and looks at me. "And now I've made you a bad friend, too. You should hate me for that. Really."

I get up and sit on the side of her bed next to her and grab her hand. I let go quickly as more electricity races through me. "Listen," I say firmly, "it was my responsibility. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but if I was such a great friend, I wouldn't have picked the wrong decision."

She looks away from me and sighs again. "I screwed everything up, Ron. I destroyed my relationship with Harry, and I tainted your friendship with him, too." she pauses. "I think I ruined our friendship, as well."

"You and me are fine," I say firmly. "We haven't changed."

She looks at me and examines me. Just like Harry. "Really?" she asks, sounding almost amused that I would say that. "You really think nothing has changed between us?"

"Yes," I lie.

"You're a bad liar, Ronald Weasley," she says, putting her hand on my cheek and turning my head so that I would face her. "_Everything's_ changed. And you know that."

I say nothing to that and decide to turn the subject back to my question. "Why are you so upset today? Is it just the guilt? Because I feel horrible too, Hermione. You can talk to me."

"Well, Harry isn't waiting for you to have sex with him," she says. "'Just the guilt' doesn't even begin to describe how I feel and how complicated everything has gotten."

"So what're you planning on doing?" I ask.

"I don't know," she says miserably.

"Do you want to tell him?" I ask.

"Yes," she responds.

"Are you going to?" I ask, feeling a little panicky.

"No."

"Oh," I say, feeling slightly relieved, yet more like a traitor every second.

"I just can't do it, Ron," she says. "If I sleep with him, I'll feel even worse. It would be betraying him further. It would be one of the biggest lies I could ever make him live."

"So what are you going to tell him?" I ask. "I just talked to him and he's at a complete loss as to what to do."

She gives me a disgusted expression. "He talked to _you_ about our sex life?" she asked disbelievingly. "That's _low._ Wouldn't he have the sense to know that I don't want someone I spend so much time with to know about what he and I do?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "First of all, you and Harry don't _have_ a sex life. Second of all, why do you care if I know about what you and Harry do? I think I would know more than any guy out there how you are in or out of bed, considering I'm the guy you've gone with the farthest."

She looks away. "You're right." she says, ashamed. "It's not like I can pretend to be more noble than Harry, anyway."

I turn back to the original question. "What are you going to tell him about all this?"

"I don't want to lose him as a friend, Ron," she says. "But it seems like all the solutions available make me take that risk."

"Like what solutions?" I question.

"Well, I can tell him the truth," she says, "but then he would never speak to me. You neither. Or I can break up with him and risk losing our friendship."

"Break up with him?" I ask incredulously. "I don't understand you, Hermione. You were so sure this was such a good idea when you asked me. Now this is causing you to want a breakup? Then what was the purpose of asking me to do that?"

"I didn't think it would end up like this, Ron." she snaps. "I didn't think this would make me angry with Harry for putting me in this dilemma."

We stay quiet. She sits up and rests her chin on my shoulder. Again with the jolt of electricity. She changes her position and buries her eyes in my shoulder instead. It's times like this that really make me want to just screw everything and do it with her again. But of course I can't do that. I wish she knew how she makes me feel. Doesn't she know this is torture?

I shake my head, not believing this is reality. I can't believe life got this complicated. I don't know what goes through Hermione's head anymore. I'm so fed up.

She raises her head from my body and says, "I have a question for you."

"I have one for you too," I say.

"You go first," she says, huskily.

"So you love Harry?" I ask simply. It wasn't hard to make the words come out. I'm sick of not knowing.

She hesitates. "Like a brother," she answer. "Not the way he loves me."

I nod, taking in this new information. I feel so. . . empty. That just makes life more complicated.

"Ask your question," I tell her.

She hesitates much longer than I did.

"Do you regret it?" she asks.

I know what she's referring to. At this point, I don't have to ask.

"No," is my answer.

She puts her arms around me and buries her head in my shoulder again.

**A/N: Please review! Sorry this was short, and sorry if the writing was crappy. I have to improve on writing dialogue.**


	5. Little Slips

**A/N: Every time I update I promise that the next won't take so long, and I never pull through. I haven't forgotten this story (completely), and I WILL finish it, but I'm an extremely busy person. Anyway, enjoy!**

**This chapter is in Hermione's POV. And again, sorry if the dialogue sucks.**

**This picks up from the last chapter.**

_Secrets_

Chapter V: Little Slips

"Do you regret it?" I ask Ron, anticipating the answer.

I've wanted to know that ever since we stopped doing it the night that it happened. I've wanted to ask him _so many _things after it was over. Was it good for him? Did he think I was rubbish? Did he wish he'd lost his virginity to someone else?

"No."

I hear the answer and fill with relief. I bury my head in his shoulder instinctively and take in his scent. My mind is still reeling, as I try to take in his reply completely. If he doesn't regret it, even with all this going on, does that mean he loves me? My heart fills with a tiny glimmer of hope. Then it fades. I shouldn't be feeling that.

I sigh.

God, I _hate _this! Everything I think and feel is _wrong!_ I hate that I can't feel hopeful. I hate that I can't think about Ron. I _hate _that I betrayed Harry. I _hate _that he thinks I'm in love with him. Everything makes me feel this damned _guilt._

Why did I ever agree to be Harry's girlfriend, anyway? I guess at the time I really thought that maybe I could start to love him as time went on. But _why _didn't I call it off after I realized that that clearly was not the case? What was I ever going to _do? _I sure as hell never planned on _marrying_ Harry. Which means I always had a breakup in the back of my mind! _Why_ didn't I put two and two together before?

"I have a confession to make," Ron says.

His voice startles me. I almost forgot I was clinging onto him. I let go of him and look at his face. He looks nervous.

"Go ahead," I say, a little anxious. What's he going to say?

"Remember how you asked me if I was sure that I wanted to lose my virginity to you, and I said I wouldn't have wanted to lose it to anyone else?" he asks.

"Yes," I say slowly. Oh, God. Is he going to tell me that he didn't actually feel that way?

"Well, the truth is. . ." his voice trails away and he doesn't finish the sentence.

"Yes?" I say, feeling horrible now.

"The truth is. . .that really wasn't my first time." he finishes, looking away from me.

Suddenly, I feel empty. It's as if all my emotions have been drained from me. I frown slightly. Confusion starts to sink into my head very slowly.

_What? _

"Huh?" I ask, sounding stupid. I'm not even sure why I said that. I heard what he said very clearly. But maybe I heard wrong. Maybe I rearranged the message the wrong way.

"When I slept with you I wasn't a virgin," he says, still not looking at me.

Again with the emptiness. I think I might be in shock. A few minutes tick by.

"You. . ._weren't?"_ I ask, feeling extremely puzzled now.

He shakes his head. "No, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I mean, I didn't mean to mislead you. . ."

Why is it that I feel so utterly confused right now? He's being pretty blunt. "But. . .but," I start to sputter. I can't even form a complete sentence. But I thought he _was _a virgin! I thought he lost it to _me_! I thought we shared something special. I thought we were each other's firsts. . .

As if my emotions are deciding to each come back one by one, out of nowhere, jealousy decides to take over.

"_Who?"_ I demand.

He scratches the back of his neck with his hand and looks at the floor. "Olivia Burke."

My eyes narrow. _Olivia Burke? _But she and Ron only dated for two months! How the hell did they get so close in two months? That's not possible.

"Are you sure?" I ask disbelievingly.

Ron looks as though he wants to laugh at that. "I'm pretty sure," he says with a nod.

"And you were _that_ intimate with her?" I blurt out. "You guys loved each other that much?"

"No," he says thoughtfully, "Olivia just thought it was time to go onto the next step, so we did."

My mouth hangs slightly open at this. I can't quite take all of this in. Olivia Burke is an irritating Ravenclaw that has proclaimed herself as God's gift to men. Last year she and Ron met doing prefect duties and started dating after three weeks of knowing each other. They dated from the end of October to the beginning of January, and I always considered their relationship slightly immature. It didn't appear to me that they really cared about each other's. . . _lives._ They were more into making out and all that. . .

My thought gets interrupted as clarity starts to fill my mind.

Why the hell didn't the possibility occur to me before? Olivia has the reputation of dating guys just to get them to bed. I just always reckoned Ron wouldn't be that stupid. . .

And I thought he would tell me when he did something so major. We _were _best friends, were we not? Why didn't he tell me?

"Why _her?" _I ask, hurt. "What did _she _have?"

He shrugs, still not looking at me. "She was my girlfriend, and that's what couples do."

"Harry and I don't do that," I retort.

"Because you don't want to," he says.

"Because I'm not in love with him, Ron!" I cry, my eyes moistening. "I reckoned that _that_ was reserved for people one falls in love with!"

I gasp slightly as the words spill out of my mouth. Ron's looking at me with an expression I can't decipher. We're silent for what seems like an eternity. I can't quite believe I just _said _that. I just basically confessed my love to him. I take slow, deep breaths, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. I hadn't outwardly _said _that I love him, but Ron's not so daft.

Well, this is a problem. A _big _problem. _Another _big problem. I can't let Ron walk around knowing just how strongly I feel for him. He'll act even weirder with Harry around.

But I at least deserve to know a couple of things. "So," I say shakily, "no including me, how many girls have slept with?"

I'm still breathing like I've come in from a long run. I don't even want to hear the answer now.

"Two," he says.

I feel a hot sensation taking over my face. Tears are threatening to spill. "I don't want to know who the other one is," I say, though I can pretty much guess since Ron only had two girlfriends last year.

He looks at my hurt face with a pained expression. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but--"

I put a hand up to stop him. "I don't want to hear anymore." I say. "It's. . .it's. . .none of my business, really."

I look at him, and see that he looks just as sad as I probably do.

"Can I just tell you one last thing, though?" he asks. Almost pleas.

I shake my head. "No--"

"But--"

"_No!_" I snap, louder than I intended. "_You _were the one that said we should just forget about everything, and not talk about this mess. _You _were the one that said if we started talking about all this stuff, things would get too complicated. And you were right. Getting into deep conversations about this will only bring trouble. So just drop it."

We look at each other for a moment. I can tell he really wants to say something, and I want him to say it too, but I just can't let him. This talk has buried us in a deep enough hole.

"Alright," he says finally, "We'll leave it at that."

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

I want to look for Harry, but I can't quite do it. I want to go to him and try to resolve the anger between us, but I just can't.

My talk with Ron has left me so hurt, that I've been in this stupid bathroom for hours contemplating everything.

At first I couldn't figure out _why_ I was so hurt. Sure, it was of course because I'm in love with him, and sure, I hate that he never told me about it, and yes, I hate the fact that it was Olivia Burke who took him, but none of those reasons were the biggest one.

When it gets down to it, the fact is that he doesn't feel for me the way I do for him. The fact is that he didn't wait for me, but I waited for _him. _I stepped out of my personality and values, set _everything_ at risk, and have landed myself in months of a torturous existence just to make _sure _that the first time I gave myself up completely to someone, it would be the right person. And that's him.

He, on the other hand, screwed some girl he'd only known for three months just because she thought it was time to "step up." He didn't come to me. He just. . .went on without me.

Sure, I'm a deceitful little bitch now, but that's because _he _drives me crazy. _He _makes me not care about morals. _He _just makes me want him and forget about everything. It doesn't matter tome what I have to do to be with him. If he felt the same way for me, why would values matter?

But he doesn't feel the same way. That's why they _did _matter.

I rub my eyes with my fingers.

Sure, I never told him that I wanted him to be my first, but I just thought. . . It just felt like it was almost a _rule _that he and I had to follow, just because that's how it's meant to be. It felt like he should just _know. _But he didn't.

I sigh. Yet when I think about it, it all makes sense. When Parvati lost her virginity, she complained about how awful it had been. For her, the experience had been awkward and a confusing task to complete. Lavender reassured her that it gets better with more practice, and told her that everyone's first time was never great.

But for me, it _had _been great. Ron did everything right. He did it with the right pace, with the right vibe, everything he did was right. I had occasionally thought about this before and was convinced that Ron had been so good because he knew _me. _I thought it was because he just naturally knew how to handle me. I thought it might have just been that he might have felt something for me and the feeling was leading him.

But it wasn't because he knew _me._

He just _knew._

From start to finish Ron knew exactly what to do. He never got nervous. He was always under control. He already knew what needed to be done and when and how. That's why I enjoyed it so much. Because Ron had had enough experience (I'm guessing he did it more than once with each girl) to know what feels good how to it.

_Why!_

_Why _did I just _have _to assume that he was a virgin because of some stupid little idea brewing in my mind? So many girls had started to like him last year. He had gotten so handsome that girls were practically bowing down to him as he walked through the halls. And he _liked _the attention. He flirted with almost every girl that threw a compliment at him.

And _Olivia. _I should have taken it into account after he dated her. Obviously, she would want to sleep with him. How could I think that a guy who had been so tired of being invisible all his life would turn down such a flattering and "manly" proposition when it was offered to him? How could I think that I was in his sub-conscience when girls ten times as good looking as me were at his feet?

I'm so _stupid. _

A tear rolls off my face and onto my lap. I ruined everything. The Golden Trio has been sabotaged thanks to me.

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

About thirty minutes later after I finished crying I set off to find Harry. It wasn't hard. I found him flying around the Quidditch pitch. I watched him fly for ten minutes, when it started to get dark and he descended to the ground. He seemed exhausted. Not physically exhausted, more like emotionally tired.

"Hi," I say tentatively.

He looks at me and smiles wryly. "Feeling better?" he asks.

I nod. This morning I'd been so moody. Poor Harry tried to soften me up by kissing me, but I didn't want it. I didn't want his affection.

"Yeah," I reply awkwardly. "I'm sorry if I acted rashly."

I don't want to apologize for not wanting to sleep with him. He and I probably won't be together much longer. I don't want to try and mend our romance issues when I'm planning to end them.

He sighs. "It's okay, it's my fault." he says.

"Your fault?" I ask.

He nods as we start to make our way towards the castle. "Yeah, I've probably been putting pressure on you to be more physical without realizing it. I should've been more careful. I know how sensitive you are."

Why does he have to be so damn noble? Can't he ever be angry and immature? It'd be a lot easier for me to hear this if he was being arrogant instead of blaming himself for things that aren't really his fault.

"It's not your fault, Harry," I say, tired. "I'm just not feeling myself these days."

"I've noticed," he says. There's something about his tone. "You've been acting strange ever since we came back to Hogwarts."

"I have?" I ask, feeling surprised. I thought I was doing pretty well. Until recently, that is.

He nods. "Yeah."

"How?"

He shrugs. "You just don't seem yourself. You're in deep thought all the time. I know a lot has changed since last year, but the last time I saw you, you were a much happier Hermione than the Hermione I'd always known. Now you seem so gloomy all the time."

"I didn't realize that," I say. "I mean, yes I've been stressed out a lot lately, but I didn't think it showed so much."

"Maybe it doesn't," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.

"Well, Ron hasn't noticed anything different about you," he tells me. "Maybe I can just notice more things about you than he can, though I doubt it."

"Why's that?"

"Because I always reckoned that Ron knows you better than I do."

When I hear this, my initial reaction is shock. Why would Harry think something like that? It might be true, but I always thought Harry thought he knew me best.

"Why would you think that?" I ask curiously.

"He just. . . He just knows everything about you. What you like, what you don't like, what I should do to impress you, what I _shouldn't _do to annoy you, he makes you laugh, he can comfort you when I can't, and everything else about you. Whenever I need advice concerning you he always has an answer," he explains. "It's like he. . ." his voice trails away and his gaze becomes blank.

"Like what?" I ask, hoping he'll continue.

"He just knows you inside out is all," he says with a sigh.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

We're quiet for a moment and continue walking across the grounds. Harry seems upset by something.

"So why are you stressed out?" he asks.

I shrug.

"Did something happen during the holidays?" he asks.

I turn my head sharply and look at him. "Why would you think something happened during the holidays?" I ask, a note of panic in my voice.

"I told you you've been acting strangely since we got here." he says simply.

"Well, nothing happened during the summer." I say, a little too firmly.

"Yeah, Ron said that," he says.

I frown. "What?"

"Well, actually, he said you were acting normal," he says with a note of finality in his tone. "Which is strange in itself."

"What is?"

"That he said you were acting normal."

"Why's that strange?"

"Well," he says slowly. "How would he know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Last time I checked you told me you spent your summers apart." he says, facing me with a serious expression.

"We did," I say unconvincingly.

"Is something going on that I should know about?" he asks suspiciously.

Crap. Ron slipped.

**A/N: Please review!**


	6. Further Complications

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews guys, I really appreciate them.**

_Secrets_

Chapter VI: Further Complications

Where's Hermione?

I look at the clock, exhausted and see that it's ten at night. Why hasn't she come back? She left the bathroom at like six, and probably went to look for Harry. I expected her to be back a little late, but now it's past our curfew.

I slip on my pajamas with a long yawn and get into bed. Maybe she's in the Gryffindor Tower still talking to him.

I try to come up with a reason for her lateness, but this day has been _so _tiring. . .

**(D)R(E)(A)(M)**

"_Ron?" says Harry, "Do you know where Hermione is? I have a date with her and I can't find her anywhere."_

_I look up from my chess game and shake my head, puzzled at Harry's fancy tuxedo._

"_Where'd you get the suit?" I ask._

"_From the Dursleys," he says brightly, "Aren't they great?"_

_I frown. "But I thought they hated you?"_

"_Where'd you get that idea from?" he asks with a surprised laugh. "They love me!"_

_Oh yeah. . . Now I remember._

"_Anyway, if you see Hermione, let me know where she is!"_

_I nod, and Harry leaves, skipping happily. I turn back to my chess game and feel someone poke me in the back of my head. I turn and see a giddy Hermione smiling at me._

"_Is he gone?" she asks._

_I nod._

"_Good, now let's go!" _

_She grabs my arm in giddy fashion and takes me over to her dorm. I lay down on her bed. She sits on top of me and takes her shirt off---_

_(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)_

"Ron!"

I groan. Someone's shaking me.

"Ron, wake up!" It's Hermione. "I need to talk to you!"

Oh no. . .was the dream real? I open my eyes groggily and am relieved to see that she's fully clothed. Kind of disappointing that is, though. She also seems a little angry. Anxious, too.

What could she possibly have to talk to me about _now? _Didn't we talk enough today? I thought we weren't even supposed to be getting into intimate discussions anymore.

"What is it?" I ask with a sigh.

"Ron," she says, taking a long deep breath, "you told Harry!"

I frown, confused. "I told Harry what?"

"Just about everything he needed to know!" she cries. "You basically told him that we'd spent the summer together!"

"What? When did I do this?" Where's she getting this from?

"Today!" she exclaims. "When you were talking with him! He asked you if you thought I've been acting strangely lately and you said no! Then he asked you how I'd been behaving during the summer--"

"--and I said you were normal," I say with a groan as I realize my mistake. _Shit. _No wonder Harry looked so dumbfounded.

"I told him that you must have been talking about how I sounded in my letters," she continues, in a huffy voice. "He didn't believe me, Ron! He just kept nodding and giving me that _look _that just says he knows I'm hiding something!"

Her voice got higher and higher with every word she just said. She looks like she's about to cry, and I immediately feel responsible. This is twice in one day I make her get teary. I put a hand on her shoulder, and she brushes it off, as if stung.

"Don't touch me!" she snaps. "We're in a bad enough dilemma as it is!"

_Ouch._ That hurt.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I was just trying to make you feel better."

She takes deep breaths and stays quiet. The room is dark, but I can still see that she's in deep thought. I glance at the clock next to bed and am surprised to see that it's eleven thirty. What had she been doing all this time, and was I really asleep that long?

"Hermione where were you?" I ask.

"I was talking to Harry," she says quietly. "I can't do it, Ron."

"Do what?"

"Break up with him," she says tearfully. "I just can't do it."

Some sort of gloomy feeling drops into my stomach. I can't decipher what it is. It might be disappointment. Maybe it's irritation. I don't know. I can't say I'm surprised that this would happen, though.

"It's just that," she says, "now that I see he doesn't trust me, I can't bring myself to leave him for a false reason."

"So what do you suppose the solution is?" I ask. I'm almost hoping she says that we should just confess. I'm sick of this. I just want everything to go back to the way it always was. I want us all to be friends again. I feel like I've already lost Harry, and Hermione I lose a little more of everyday.

"I don't know. . ." she says miserably.

I examine her profile. She looks depressed. There are dark bags under her eyes, and the expression within them is not that of the Hermione I've always known. I don't see the logical light in them anymore, and a Hermione without logic is a Hermione without sanity. That's not even a Hermione, really.

I take a deep breath.

"Hermione, I think we should just tell him," I say. She looks at me sharply, but I continue before she can stop me, "I'm starting to get worn out, and it's only November third tomorrow. I don't think I can take a whole year of this, and frankly, you're in a worse condition than I am. The guilt is starting to bury you. You're not _you _anymore. You're like a scared little kid telling all the fibs it needs to tell to hide a secret. I'm not myself, either. I can't even look Harry in the face anymore. If you and me keep up with this he'll never forgive us."

There are desperate tears gliding down her cheeks. I ignore her previous wishes and put an arm around her. She puts her face in her hands and starts to weep.

"We can't hide it forever, 'Mione," I say gently. "If we keep telling more lies we'll only make it worse."

"Why can't we?" she asks, her voice muffled in her hands.

"Why can't we hide it?"

She nods, clarifying my question.

"Because," I say, with a wry chuckle, "Harry's not dumb, is he? He knew something was out of place the _moment_ he saw you! We didn't even have a chance to mess up right then, and he already knew something was wrong."

She takes her face out of her hands and stares ahead into the darkness. She's stubborn to take this in.

"Besides, you and me are too loyal to keep this going," I finish.

She snorts. "You think we're loyal? I think the exact opposite."

I nod. "Okay, so right now we're bastards, I won't deny it," I say shrewdly, "but the point is, we regret it. The point is, you did it with Harry's best intentions at heart, and I did it because you needed me. That's it. And we're suffering, aren't we? We're going through hell just so that we won't lose Harry. I can't even lie properly to him. I already let something slip! I'm not used to hiding things from him. It doesn't feel as though I belong putting myself on top-alert mode with Harry. I don't feel right having to analyze everything he says. It doesn't seem right to me."

I look at Hermione to see her twiddling her fingers in her hands. She's biting her lip in a guilty fashion.

"So you're not even scared?" she asks with a whimper.

I sigh. "Of course I'm scared!" I say. "Harry could very well never talk to me again! I'd lose the first friend I ever made! He's my best mate and I betrayed him like an enemy! It scares the hell out of me. But he _will _find out, Hermione, and if he finds out the wrong way, there'll be absolutely no possibility of him ever forgiving either of us. If _we _tell him, at least he'll know we have the guts to go to him ourselves. He'll know we really _do _regret it."

She looks at me, slightly angry. "I thought you said you _didn't _regret it."

"I don't!" I say quickly. "Well, I do--but. . ."

"So you lied to me," she says sounding hurt and angry. "On top of the fact that you never told me you were a virgin and let me ramble on about the fact that I thought you were like some kind of an idiot, you have to lie about the fact that you regretted it? I don't appreciate you making me seem like a fool, Ron."

"_Damn it!_" I burst, making her jump. "Why does everything have to be so damn _frustrating_? God Hermione, I meant that I regret betraying Harry! I don't regret sleeping with you, I regret sleeping with you _while you were dating Harry!_ If you _had _been single, everything would have been perfect, but you weren't! I mean, it _was _prefect, but see how the fact that it was cheating on your boyfriend and my best friend ruins it?"

My breathing has become really quick and short. _Shit. _What the hell did I just tell her? Basically that I love her. God, what the hell am I supposed to do now? I can't just openly _confess _it. If I do, I'll end up screwing everything I just said and kissing her.

Well, she basically told _me _she loved me today too. . .

"I just don't think I can do it, Ron." she says, not looking me in the eyes. "You very well _know _I didn't do this for Harry's best interest. If I had, I would've slept with him before he even got the chance to ask me if I was ready. The truth is, I don't _want _to tell him because I don't know whether I _deserve _to be forgiven or not, and I really, really don't want to lose Harry's friendship!"

"Are you sorry?" I ask.

"_Obviously."_

"Then you deserve forgiveness. Everyone makes mistakes, and this was a big one, but. . .we learn, don't we? Sure, it might be harder for Harry to forgive us for this than for just about anything else. . .but I think we deserve it. Even if it's only a little." I say heavily.

"This is so hard, Ron!" she says.

I nod and squeeze her shoulder. "I know."

"No," she groans. "You don't. I complicated everything even further tonight."

_Great. _What _other _complication could possibly arise?

"It's just that," she puts her face in her hands again, "whenever I'm around him I just can't bring myself to do anything that might reveal this stupid secret."

"Yeah. . ." I say slowly.

"And today I just felt so panicky when he suspected that we'd been together in the summer that I just felt like I needed to do whatever he wanted to make him feel better. . ." her voice trails off with a groan.

My stomach lurches with dread. "Hermione, you didn't sleep with him did you?"

She raises her head and shakes it. "No," she says.

I feel relief flow through my veins.

"But I told him I'm ready," she finishes.

The dread comes back. "_Hermione,"_ I groan, "can't you see how much harder that makes things?"

"I _know,"_ she says miserably.

"Did you make plans for when?" I ask, not wanting to hear the answer.

She nods. "On Valentine's Day. He thought it'd be special that way."

I shake my head. Could this get any _worse?_ Why do things have to get so twisted so quickly? How the hell is Hermione supposed to get out of _this _one?

"So what're you planning to do about it?" I ask, tired. I reach over to my bedside table and light a candle.

"I don't know," she says tearfully.

"You're not planning to go through with it, are you?" I ask. "Because if you think deceiving him is hard now, imagine how hard trying to act normal will be if you sleep with him. Not to mention, pretending to enjoy it while you actually _do _it."

"Of course I'm not planning to go through with," she replies, irritated. "That'd be cruel. Crueler than I'm being now, anyway."

"Have you got any ideas?"

She thinks for a few moments. "I think it'd be best if he decided to leave _me._"

"That's going to be mighty hard, isn't it?" I ask. "Considering he probably feels closer to you than ever now that you're planning to sleep with him."

She nods, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. "Jeez Ron, when did I become so _stupid?"_

**(M)(i)(d)-(N)(o)(v)(e)(m)(b)(e)R**

The two weeks after Hermione and I had our conversation in the dark dormitory seemed never-ending. Harry and I talked about my little slip, and I told him that yes, I _had _seen Hermione during the summer but only for one day in Diagon Alley. I don't think he believed it. To tell the truth, I didn't try too hard to fool him. I'm sick of lying, and he seemed to see right through me anyway. He looked hurt.

Thankfully though, we had a lot to keep us busy. We were all slightly behind in our schoolwork and spent several afternoons in the library catching up. Hermione had started to make a schedule of time she would have to set apart to be able to make _another _schedule of what we needed to study for N.E.W.Ts and when. Harry and I had Quidditch practice and our first game of the season. Well, our practice paid off because we won.

That's where we are now; the Gryffindor common room celebrating our victory against Ravenclaw. The score had been 240:180. Our Chasers had been incredible. They scored _twenty-four _times. The Ravenclaw Seeker had been, thank goodness, not all that smart and caught the Snitch when his team only had thirty points.

For the first time since school started I feel happy. _Really _happy. All these people and all this music and food makes me feel so damn alive. For once this year, I feel like myself again. I'm down-to-earth, I'm loud, I'm silly. I'm not thinking all the time about all these depressing things.

Blimey, even when Voldemort was powerful I wasn't this distraught. It's crazy what love can do to a guy.

"Hey, Ron!" I turn away from the snack table and face Ginny.

"What's up?" I say, unable to keep the happy grin off my face.

"How've you been this year?" she asks. "I've hardly seen you at all. Hermione too. What've you guys been up to all year?"

Being tortured.

I shrug. "Just been busy, I guess."

"But you don't even talk to me during practice," she says, pressing the subject. "I know I'm your sister and everything, but you and me have always been friends. I don't really wanna drift apart."

I feel a pang of guilt. It's true. The only full day that I've spent with Ginny this year was Halloween. Harry and Hermione were there too, so it wasn't like I paid a lot of exclusive attention to her then either.

"I'm sorry, I just have a lot on my mind." I say.

"Let me guess; it involves Hermione, doesn't it?" she says in a dull voice.

My eyes widen. "What would give you that idea?"

"Well," she says, "I've been spending a lot of time with Harry lately and he says that you guys have been acting really weird lately. He says he gets the feeling you guys lied about where you spent your summers, and he really wishes he knew why. Why _did _you lie? What were you guys up to?"

Suddenly I feel very hot. Dread starts to travel through my body, except this time it feels a million times worse. Does this shit have to follow me everywhere I go?

"You didn't tell him that I visited her, did you?" I ask, ignoring her question.

She shakes her head. "No. I knew I should keep my mouth shut if you told me to lie for you. What are you guys hiding from Harry? I was pretty shocked myself when I heard you wouldn't be spending the first Voldemort-free summer together."

I sigh. I want to tell someone, but I can't just tell Ginny what I did without Hermione agreeing.

"It's private," I mutter.

"Well, I figure _that,_" she says in an obvious tone, "but what could be so private that you need to hide it from Harry?"

"It's complicated," I say.

"No it's not," she retorts quickly. "There are only a few probabilities as to what this whole business is about, and only one really makes sense. I'm just going to tell you right now though, Ronald Weasley; if you and Hermione did what I think you did don't count on me to cover up anymore of your lies. Doing something like that is _wrong _and _deceitful_ and _I _don't want to have anything to do with it. So if you don't tell me right now a real good reason for your fishy behavior, then I'm just going to tell Harry exactly what I suspect and I'll let him know where you _really _were last summer."

Stupid. Little. Bitch. Can't she _ever _mind her own damn business?

"What're you going on about?" I demand, as if I had no idea.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on Ron!" she exclaims. "It's really not that hard to figure out. I mean, you're in love with Hermione--"

"I am _not--"_

"--she's in a relationship with a guy she thinks of as her brother, you decide to exclude Harry out of your vacation plans and refuse to tell anyone else what you're up to, you've both been acting fidgety, and Hermione can't seem to be able to move on with her and Harry's relationship." she says this all with a satisfied tone, and finishes by raising an eyebrow at me.

"So what're you suggesting?" I demand, annoyed.

"That she cheated on Harry with you!" she says impatiently.

"Ginny, get the hell out of my business," I say aggressively. "You really have no idea what Hermione and I were doing over the summer and it doesn't concern you. So stay the hell out of it--"

"I'm not going to watch you destroy Harry with your betraying ways--"

"No, actually," I interrupt, "You're not gonna open you're Goddamned big, nosey mouth to instigate shit you're not even involved in. I know it must hurt that you're not included in everyone's drama, and I know since you think you're Miss Personality you can act as tough as you please and rule over everyone, but I can assure you Ginny, you're not about to tell me what I have to tell you or to anyone else. So shut. The fuck. Up."

I walk away from her, furious. I don't _need _this! And there I was, thinking she actually wanted to talk about something pleasant and catch up. Who the hell does she think she is?

I'll be glad when all these complication stop coming down like raindrops during a storm.


	7. Belated Birthday Message

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I'm in a bit of a sad mood right now. I reread this story and am feeling incredibly dissatisfied. I like the plot idea, but I've made this story so completely _dull _that I don't think I'm doing the idea any justice. I feel like rewriting the whole story, but of course it's too late to do that now. Anyway, I'll try to make the story better. **

_Secrets_

Chapter VII: Belated Birthday Message

"I can't believe Christmas vacation starts the day after tomorrow," I say to Harry, packing some of my clothes into my suitcase. "This year is going by so quickly."

Actually, that's a confusing statement. The days feel like they're taking twice as long as they usually do to end, but weeks and months feel like they're slipping away in minutes. It's difficult to explain.

"Yeah," he says, "I'll miss you over the holidays. I don't think I'll be able to take a whole week without you."

I turn my back to him and smile a bit sadly to myself. With everyday that passes he gets more and more tender. More and more mushy. It makes me sick. I like romance as much as the next girl, but Harry has never been the type to say loving comments all that often. Normally, he would have stopped his last words after "I'll miss you over the holidays." He wouldn't have added the rest.

"I'll miss you too," I lie.

Truthfully, I want Harry as far away from me as humanly possible for a while. I need to figure out how the heck I'm going to get him to want to leave me. Ron was right when he said that Harry would feel closer to me now more than ever after I told him I was ready for what he so badly wants. How am I supposed to make him not want me in less than two months? It doesn't feel possible.

I sigh.

I need Ron away from me for a while as well. Out of all the complications in my life right now, he's the biggest one. He just brings so many questions to my mind. For a few years now, I've been trying to figure out why I'm attracted to him. In the past, it used to irritate me only mildly that I liked Ron. Sometimes I would scold myself, reminded that Harry was the one I should feel that way for.

Still, I always kind of liked having a secret attraction for Ron. I liked feeling giddy around him, I liked blushing, I liked that he was forbidden. I guess I've always been the type to have fun just having a crush. Of course, as time passed, these thoughts began to get more and more serious and I often found myself putting them in the back of my head, deciding to ignore them altogether. I guess that wasn't the right thing to do, was it?

I should've come clean back then. Now everything's so screwed up. It feels like he and I have this separate relationship from everyone else in which all the rules that apply to couples apply to us. That's the way it's always really been. I always knew not to mention other guys in front of him. He always knew not to talk about other girls in front of me. When we did, things always got awkward. So we normally avoided that scenario altogether. We rarely ever had conversations about our serious romantic relationships with other people. Come to think of it we never did. Not until after I asked him to sleep with me. Then all we _did _was talk about me and Harry.

But now that we've gotten ourselves so wound up in a knot, he brings nothing but confusing debates to mind. I think he told me he felt the same way about me a while ago. He said if I had been single when we'd done it, everything would _really _have been perfect. If he didn't feel romantically towards me, why would he use the word 'perfect?' People don't use that word for one-night stands, do they? And he said it with such emotion. . .

But what if he just meant that we would've been free to have as much fun with each other as possible and have no remorse for it? What if he meant that it would've been perfect because we could have had sex and not worry about losing Harry? What if he was referring to the actual sex being perfect?

But I shouldn't be worrying about whether or not Ron loves me, I remind myself. He shouldn't be my main concern right now. _Harry's_ the one I might lose forever in a few weeks' time, not Ron. And yet I still find myself dwelling more about my relationship with Ron than my dilemma with Harry. I know that's wrong, but I can't help it. Does that make me a terrible person?

Most of the time, I blame my incessant thoughts of Ron on love. Love is the most powerful emotion out there, isn't it? It makes people insane. Almost like the way superstitious people get when the full moon is out. They get crazy and bizarre. They don't act the way they would under the normal moon, on any other regular night. Ron drives me insane that way. It isn't my fault, is it? Love makes people obsessive, crazy, aggressive, angry, happy, sad, erratic, etc. All these emotions hitting me at once are bound to have questionable results, right?

It seems perfectly justifiable whenever I think about it like that.

But sometimes I question that conclusion. Friendship is supposed to be one of the strongest bonds, if not _the _strongest bond, people can have. So what excuse is there for me to have been such an awful friend? Is romantic love really that strong? No, it can't be. . .

I frown. Yes it _can!_ Ron and I have been by Harry's side through thick and thin, bad times and good times, through the easy and hard. We've almost died for him countless times! It has to be something _really _strong that got us to betray him.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

I hear Harry's voice and whip around quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine!" I say cheerfully.

He looks at me hesitantly. "It's just that you've been twisting that shirt in your hands for the last five minutes."

I glance at the blouse in my hands and blush, feeling stupid. "I'm just thinking about something," I say, shaking my head.

"About what?" he asks, interested.

I shake my head again. "Nothing important," I say, "just something I want to talk with mother about."

"Oh," he says simply.

"So," I say, trying not to sound embarrassed as I turn back to folding my clothes, "are you looking forward to going to the Burrow?"

He nods. "Of course. I'm really excited about this new thing that Fred and George told Ron about. . ."

He goes on to explain about some new invention the twins have come up with, and I go back to packing. Okay, so all my clothes are set. Now I just need to pack my books and other belongings. I open up my trunk and examine its contents. Some of my school books are in there already. I see a few rolls of parchment and some ink bottles--

Suddenly I shriek with fright. Crookshanks took me by surprise and decided to leap into my trunk as I examined it.

"Crookshanks!" I exclaim, irritated. "Get out of my things!"

The cat scuttles for a moment and finds what he's looking for. He jumps out of my trunk with a bag of kitty treats in its mouth, turns his back to me, and proceeds to go under my bed to obviously indulge in his snack. The little pest!

"Oh, no you don't!" I hiss, going after him. I crouch down to my knees and look under bed to find him about to pop open the bag of treats with one of his claws. I quickly grab the bag, and he looks up at me, surprised. "You're getting too fat!" I say. "And you can't just give yourself these treats whenever you please! They're here so that I can give them to you when you behave like a good cat. Besides, you'll make a mess under my bed!"

He frowns at me, clearly displeased and strolls out from under my four-poster. I begin to get up when I notice a slightly dirty white envelope in the dark, near the wall. Curiously, I crawl in to retrieve it.

"What are you doing?" I hear Harry ask.

I grab the envelope and go out into the light. It's plain on one side. I turn it over and see an untidy scrawl with the message _Happy Birthday 'Mione! _written in the middle. It must be from Ron. I think back to my birthday and recall a white envelope attached to the photo album he gave me. I never read it. It must have fallen under my bed somehow. But how would it get there?

"_Meow,"_ I turn my head to see a grumpy-looking Crookshanks curling up in a cozy corner.

Humph. Must have been that nosey cat. Yes, it was, I confirm, noticing the teeth marks on the paper. I've got to get him out of that paper-chewing habit.

"What's that?" comes Harry's voice, startlingly close to my ear. I glance at him, over my shoulder and almost touch his face. He's looking over my shoulder at the envelope curiously.

"Just a birthday card from Ron," I say honestly.

"It doesn't look opened," he observes.

"I never got to read it," I tell him. "Crookshanks hid it under my bed."

"Oh," he says.

We stay in that position for a few awkward moments. I want to see what it says, but I don't want Harry to see. What if Ron wrote something incriminating in it? Well, maybe that'd be good. Then Harry would leave me. But no, I don't want him to find out this way.

"Well aren't you going to open it?" he asks, finally.

"Not with you breathing down my neck," I say, suddenly feeling very irritated. Harry _could _try to be a little more subtle about his need to spy on me.

"Sorry," he mutters, backing up away from me.

I wait until I make sure he's in a position he won't be able to read the letter from. When I'm satisfied, I open the envelope and pull out a piece of parchment covered in writing. Surprised that the letter much longer than I expected it to be, I begin to read it:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Happy birthday! You finally turned the big 1-8. So now I guess you're an official adult everywhere, huh? I never told you this, but I think this birthday of yours is very special. I know I pretend to think that it's not as big a deal as you and Harry believe it is, but truthfully, I'm almost certain that I think this birthday is more important than either of you think. _

_But I don't think it's special because you're of age in both of your worlds, I think it's special because for a long time, especially last year, I wasn't sure you'd get to celebrate this one. Last year, when everything was at its worst I'd find myself wondering if any of us would live to see our next birthday. I constantly wondered about it, and every time the thought entered my head, I could feel myself getting more and more overprotective of you. I worried about Harry too, but I always worried about you a little more._

_It seemed logical that you would be a target: they knew Harry had two friends and they knew you were the smart one, not to mention that they knew you were Harry's girlfriend. That's why I was so watchful over you last year. I know you thought I was suffocating you, but I really couldn't help it. I still can't sometimes. But I guess it was good that I worried so much because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten so nervous and fidgety when the Death Eaters took you that night, and Harry wouldn't have realized you were gone, nor would he have rushed off to find you. So, you owe me one. I'm just kidding._

"Hermione?" Harry says tentatively, interrupting my reading.

I look up at him, my thoughts on the letter. "Yes?" I ask.

"I'm going to go out and practice some Quidditch," he says. "It's ten and I told Ron I'd meet him at the field."

I nod. "Okay, see you."

"I'll see you in a bit," he says, kissing me goodbye.

I look after him as he leaves and return back to Ron's card.

_I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm thrilled that you've gotten to see this day. I know that sounds pretty bad, but I mean it. We could've all died last year, but miraculously, we made it. And I hope that we make it to the end together._

_I really hope we do. After what happened between you and me in the summer, it seems a lot harder, but I have hope that everything will work out the right way. But it still seems hard. The year's barely just started and I'm already having trouble keeping my act together. There's just so much to think about, you know? There's so many scenarios that we have to take into account. I mean, what if Harry finds out? What if he doesn't forgive us? Will you and me still talk to each other? What if we stay friends, but never get what we want? What if we decide that we don't deserve to have what we want because of what we did to Harry? And what if Harry does forgive us? Can we have it then? And then what if he doesn't find out? There are just so many 'what ifs' to prepare for._

_We're in for a rough time, 'Mione, but I'm willing to do whatever possible to make sure everything turns out right. We didn't fight so hard for a happy world to end up being miserable. _

_Happy birthday Hermione, and may you have many, many more to come._

_With Love,_

_Ron _

I finish reading the letter and breathe in deeply. I feel my heart thumping loudly and painfully against my chest. That wasn't what I had expected. I thought it was going to be a short and sweet happy birthday card identical to the others that I had received. But instead. . .it's truly meaningful. He put some actual thought into what he wrote.

I reread the letter. He spent last year worrying about me for my life, wondering how many days I had left, and doing everything possible to prevent anything terrible from happening to me. He really does care about me. I look at the signature. It says 'with love.' Maybe he really, really cares about me.

I read it again and again for a while. By the tenth time, I have questions. In his section about 'what ifs' he mentions "What we want" a couple of times. What does he mean? Is it what I think it means? My heart thumps louder against my chest. I can hear the pounding in my ears. Is he trying to tell me that he wants to be with me?

I shake my head. No. If he was trying to tell me that in a letter so willingly, he would have tried to tell me again. He's had plenty of time to do that. He gave this to me in September, after all. . . But what if he means something completely different? Is it normal for someone to put that in a birthday card?

I stay in thought for a while and make up my mind fairly quickly; the next time I see Ron, I'm asking him about it straightforward.

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

I scan the titles of the books from the shelves carefully one by one. I need a book that can tell me some extra history about Ancient Runes. That's my worst subject and according to my professor, we're in for a lot of work when we get back from Christmas break. None of these books are any good, though. I've already read all of them and my class status remains the same. Doesn't this library have anything else?

"Hermione!"

I turn around to see Ron jogging towards me with an anxious expression on his face. Madam Pince scowls at him as he passes her and calls my name again.

"What is it?" I ask worriedly. He looks quite uneasy. His brows are furrowed and he looks sweaty. Though, still handsome. I make a mental note to ask him about the letter after he tells me what's going on.

"Harry's been in an accident," he says breathlessly.

"What?" I say, alarmed. "Is he alright?"

He nods. "He's fine, yes, but he's hurt," he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the library. "He fell off his broom and landed badly on his leg and broke some bones."

I feel relief at these words. "Madam Pomfrey'll be able to fix that in no time," I say positively.

He shakes his head. "No, it's more complicated. I tried to help with it, because I thought I knew how, but I. . .I," he trails off and doesn't finish.

"You what?" I ask, feeling panic again.

"I pulled a Lockhart on him," he mumbles.

"What?" I ask confused.

He sighs. "I did the spell wrong and removed all his bones," he says miserably.

"Oh Ron," I groan.

We reach the infirmary and go inside to find Harry looking depressed on a bed. Madam Pomfrey is standing next to him pouring some medicine into a glass. Must be that _Skele-Gro_ stuff Harry had to drink in our second year.

"How are you feeling?" I ask tentatively.

"Awful," he says miserably.

Ron groans. "Harry I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I know it must hurt to re-grow bones--"

"It isn't that," he says. "Madam Pomfrey says I'll have to stay here over Christmas break."

"What?" Ron says, alarmed. He turns to the nurse. "Surely the procedure will be done before that?"

The woman shakes her head immediately. "No, I'm afraid not. Except for the skull, the bones in legs take longer than all others to re-grow. He'll have to be in the hospital for at least five days. I'm sorry."

"But can't he just take the medicine with him and spend his vacation on a bed or a couch?" Ron asks desperately.

Madam Pomfrey shoots him a look of venom at these words. "What kind of ridiculous suggestion is that?" she demands huffily. "Do you know how much damage going on a trip would do this poor boy? He'd probably break his other leg in the process! He's staying here, Weasley--"

"But--"

"I don't want to hear anything else," she snaps. "You would have done well to have just let _me _do my job instead of trying it out yourself! It's not as simple as people would like to think. . ."

She leaves the room, muttering about her job being underrated and underestimated.

"I'm sorry," Ron moans again. "This is all my fault."

Harry doesn't say anything, obviously feeling some resentment towards Ron for doing this to him. Ron looks away with a guilty expression.

"It's not so bad, Harry," I say, trying to sound convincing. "You always wanted to spend extra time at Hogwarts. . ." I trail off realizing how stupid that sounded.

After several futile attempts to cheer Harry up, Ron and I leave the Hospital Wing, both feeling terrible. "Poor Harry," I say with pity. "This is such a shame."

Ron sighs gloomily. "And it's all my fault," he mutters. "He'll spend his whole vacation thinking about how much he hates me, I bet."

I shake my head. "No, he'll get over it," I say confidently. "Harry knows you didn't do it on purpose. You did it with good intentions. Though, I have to admit, it was foolish of you to try."

He says nothing back, and I take the chance to steal a few glances of him. My insides turn to jelly.

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

_I shouldn't_, I tell myself.

But I promised myself I would. But _no. _I should resolve my issues with Harry before I go off trying to define a relationship with Ron. But maybe I can't resolve my issues with Harry until I fix everything with Ron. How am I supposed to focus making a good plan to repair my problem with Harry if Ron's constantly taking the focus off of him? Maybe once I know everything, I'll have nothing else to concentrate on but Harry.

I look at Ron, taking clothes out of his drawers and throwing them messily into his suitcase. I smile and roll my eyes.

Okay. Here I go.

"Ron?" I say nervously.

He looks up from the chaos he's forming on his bed. "Yeah?"

"I. . .need to talk to you," I say, a break in my voice.

He stares, looking nervous. "Okay."

"It's just that," I say, taking out the letter from my work desk, "I found the birthday card you wrote to me. I hadn't read it before."

I sit on the chair at my desk, and he sits on one next to me.

"What about it?" he asks.

I fumble with the piece of paper in my hands as I speak. "It's just that. . .it was really sweet, and I liked it."

He smiles at this. "Well, that was the point," he says warmly.

I take the letter out of the envelope. "But, I. . .don't understand a few things in it, and I just wanted to ask you about them."

He sits next to me, expectantly. Nerves start to overpower me very suddenly. It occurs to me that he'll probably have a very obvious answer to my question, and he'll wonder why in the world I'd be so nervous about asking a question like it.

"It's no big deal really," I say, though my voice shakes slightly. "I just wanted to know what you meant right here," I point to the paragraph in question, "I don't know what you mean by 'What we want.'"

He takes the paper from me and reads the passage. He's quiet for a few moments after his eyes stop moving across the paper. He's breathing a little deeper than he normally would, I notice. My heart leaps.

"I guess I meant that. . .that maybe," he's speaking raspier than usual.

"That maybe what?" I ask, urging him to continue, my stomach twisting.

He sighs.

"That maybe we could never be together," he says, not looking at me.

My heart fills with emotion and starts beating madly. I feel sweat forming quickly all over my body.

"You. . .you want to be with me?" I stammer.

He looks at me wryly. "Of course," he says with a laugh that has a note of hurt in it. "I thought maybe you would've been able to figure that out by now."

I'm speechless.

"I kind of hoped you might feel the same way," he says sounding defeated. "I sometimes thought you did, but. . ."

"I do feel the same way," I say automatically before I get the chance to think about what I'm doing.

He looks at me with shock. "You do?" he asks, quietly.

I nod, unable to keep an enormous smile off my face. This is turning out to be a lot simpler than I imagined. It all seems. . .easy. Why didn't I just tell him before?

He looks at me for a while, happiness slowly starting to show on his features. "So what now?" he asks hesitantly.

I look up at him and for the first time since this conversation began we make eyes contact. That's all it takes. Next thing I'm aware of, Ron leans in and places his lips on mine. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back. The kiss is sweet and ends too soon.

We stop kissing and look at each other closely. I'm surprised when he wipes a tear off my cheek. When did I start crying? He smiles at me and I kiss him again, deeper this time. Our tongues slide past each other intimately. His lips take my bottom one and he sucks on it.

I put my tongue in his mouth again and pull him closer by the neck. We kiss for a while, enjoying each other's tastes and moaning with pleasure. I pull away from his lips and sit on his lap, then begin to place kisses on his neck. I lick his skin and place pecks everywhere. I enjoy the moments, and relish every kiss I place on him.

He's mine. And I'm his.

_No, you're Harry's._

As I place my lips on his again, I hear those words from a voice in the back of my head. My eyes pop open. I pull away breathlessly.

He looks at me, concerned. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Harry." I say, trying to catch my breath.

Suddenly, the look of enjoyment is wiped off his face. "Oh. Right." he says, too appreciating the seriousness of the situation.

What do I do? I can't just _sit _here, looking at him, knowing he wants me, and not prove to him that I want him just as badly. I take a few breaths.

"Are you ok?" he asks me gently.

"No," I say, my voice quivering. What's the right thing to do? It doesn't seem right that I can't show on just how much I love Ron, it just doesn't. It seems almost _immoral _not to show him. More immoral than being unfaithful to a man I'm not in love with. But he's my _best friend_, not just my boyfriend. What do I do?

"What do _you _want to do, Ron?" I ask, handing him some of the responsibility for whatever decision we were about to make.

He studies me for a long time after these words. "I don't know," he says. "Whatever's right."

I bury my head in his shoulder. Here I am; faced with another tremendous decision. The first time I cheated on Harry caused me months of grief, unease, guilt, and negativity. And here I am again, faced with the decision of either backing down or doing it all over again.

_Just do it._

The voice speaks to me again. It seems so simple to hear the words in my head: just do it. Why not? The truth is, while I'm aware that this could do irreparable damage, and could put me through an endless amount of days feeling horrible, it doesn't seem to matter right this moment. Right now, I feel that all that sorrow is worth being able to love Ron at least once, and have him know how I feel. It won't be a favor this time. It will be an act of passion.

"I love you," I say, lifting my head from his shoulder and looking him in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. "And I want you."

I see an unmistakable flicker or joy in his eyes. "I love you too," he says gently.

**A/N: Cliffhanger. Sorry. Review please.**


	8. The Decisions Made

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews everyone, I really appreciate them. I've been planning how I'm going to finish this story, and right now, I'm thinking it's going to be 13 chapters in length. I'm not completely sure, but somewhere around there. Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying the story; I personally can't wait to finish it.**

**PS- I'm not sure if this chapter is very good. The major scene in this story is in Ron's POV, and I have no idea what goes through a male's head during that stuff. I tried, though. In fact, I asked one of my best guy friends how that stuff felt for him. You know how awkward that was? I still blush at the memory! **

**And yes, this chapter is graphic, but that's why this story's 'Mature.'**

_Secrets_

Chapter VIII: The Decisions Made

After she tells me that she wants me, there's no doubt in what we're about to do, but still, we stare at each other for a few moments, thinking about it all.

_Should_ I? Should I sleep with her again? Should I lay my friendship with Harry on the line _again_? Do I risk losing him once more to be able to be with Hermione?

_You already lost him._

No I haven't. I haven't lost him. _We_ haven't lost him yet. If we play our cards right, he'll forgive us, won't he? He has to.

_He doesn't. And he won't._

Yes he does. And he _will. _If we do everything right, if we come clean and if we don't hurt him any more than we have to, he'll forgive us.

_Perhaps, but sleeping with her once more isn't very helpful._

No. It certainly isn't. Having sex with her again wouldn't help matters very much when the point of letting Harry in on the secret comes around. I can just _picture_ myself telling him that I didn't know what I was thinking when she asked me if I was willing to do this the first time, and then letting him know that it wasn't just once that this happened. I'd seem like a liar. A pathetic liar who betrays his friends without thinking twice.

Hot breath sinks into my chest, and I look down to see Hermione, who has buried her face in it. I stroke her hair gently and smile slightly, despite of myself.

_Just take her._

I breathe in slightly as these words silently form in my head. Could I really just. . .just. . ._take _her? Just like that?

_Of course._

I swell at this thought.

And why the hell shouldn't I? I loved her before any _other_ guy did, including Harry! I've wanted her for a longer time than Harry could ever claim, and I've wanted her _more _than he could ever say. His feelings for her could never compete with mine.

_He knows that._

But of _course _he knows! How can he _not?_ All of my brothers have teased me about Hermione for _years_, even after she was dating Harry. If _they _could sense something, Harry surely would as well. I mean, come _on. _Harry may not be my brother by blood, but he's become more of a brother to me than any of my others. I've spent more time with him over the last seven years than any other person, excluding Hermione. If _anyone _could catch something funny about my feelings, Harry would have been the first.

I can feel my breathing getting heavier as all these thoughts pour into my mind. I feel myself getting angrier and angrier with every word.

Because if Hermione was stolen from anyone by a friend, it was _Harry _that stole her from _me. _Just because she and I were never official doesn't make his actions any more justifiable than my actions were when I slept with her the first time. The fact of the matter remains: he knew I loved her, he watched me look at her every day, watched me try to say something on several occasions, and then in one, swooping minute, he took her from me.

He took all the possibility I had of being with her just like that. Like it was nothing. And then he announced it with that big grin on his face, and I had no choice but to smile. I mean, what was I supposed to say? "You stupid traitor, she's mine and you can't have her"? No. That'd have been stupid.

Besides, how would I have been able to prove that he knew how I felt? It's not like I had the power to read Harry's mind. It's not like I could have pointed out one of his specific thoughts and make him squirm.

I sigh, and feel Hermione look up at me with a tortured expression. "So what are we doing?" she asks, sounding a little scared.

Looking down at her, my mind makes its resolution in one short second.

We're doing what we want to do, that's what. Without thinking too much, I lean down and kiss her gently on the lips.

**C(U)RR(E)(N)(T)(L)(Y)**

As she lays down on the bed, I start to unbutton my shirt. I breathe several times, and glance down at her, expectant. I can't believe I'm going to do this again. I thought I was too lucky to do this the first time. And now, here I am, about to repeat it.

I take off my shirt, and lean down to kiss her. She smiles and puts her hands around my neck. We kiss slowly for a while. I feel fire going through me with the contact. This is so much better than the first time. I know she wants me now.

She's breathing deeply beneath me, and she's caressing my neck and cheeks softly. My lips are taking in hers with slow motions. We continue like this for a while, and then stop. I place my head on her chest, and close my eyes.

I can feel a tickling sensation as she massages my hair. As I lay here, feeling calm and completely bliss, I think about how lucky I am. This is the first real time that I'm about to make love to a girl that I'm completely in love with, and know that she feels the exact same way. I can't describe the feeling. It's like. . .this _relief _and, I don't know. . ._happiness._ Like that nothing and nobody else in the world can make you feel any better than this.

She starts feeling my body. Her hands run over my back, my arms, and sides. I shiver slightly as she does this, and grin mildly, feeling a little pleased with my physique. Working out _does_ have its advantages.

After a few moments I sit up, and so does she. I kiss her on the lips gently once more and start to unbutton her blouse. I look at her face as I do this and smile. She looks so calm and ready for me. After I finish with the buttons, I slip the garment off her body and begin to unhook her bra. When I had done this the last time, I'd been pretty surprised that her body turned out to be so. . .feminine, but now, I think every part of her physique is equally as impressive.

After the cloth is taken off her, I put my arms around her waist and pull her close to me. I gently start to kiss her neck, and she puts her arms around mine and moans. She buries her head in my shoulder as I continue placing kisses all over her neck. I start to stroke her hair with my fingers, just savoring these moments.

We start to kiss again, very passionately now. Our lips and tongues are working very quick, with heated emotion. My whole body starts to feel very hot, very quickly, and I can feel my soldier down there beginning to get very excited.

I lie down on my back and she places herself on top of me. She starts to kiss my chest and stomach, taking her time after every kiss she places on me. I look down at her, and smile again. She seems so full of. . ._love _right now. It makes me feel so warm and kind of stupid inside.

I still can't believe she loves me just as much as I love her. It seems like a dream. After all these years of being just a sort of faraway admirer, it turns out that all those times I've had to watch her kiss Harry, she was wishing that was me. Or has she loved me for that long? I wonder. . .

My thoughts are interrupted as Hermione starts tugging on the zipper of my jeans. She pulls it down and starts to struggle with taking my pants off. I sit up and takes off my shoes to help her out, then lie down again. She pulls off my pants and boxers and leans down.

She looks up at me bashfully, and I can see her face starting to turn a little red. "I don't know how to do this too well." she says, "I've never done it before."

"It's okay," I say reassuring, "you don't have to if you don't feel like it."

"No," she says, shaking her head, "I want to."

I nod at her and smile. She leans down and I close my eyes. Slowly, I feel as Hermione takes me in with her mouth. Pleasure starts to fill me as she licks and maneuvers her tongue around my. . .well, you know.

Admittedly, it seems that she feels awkward as she does it. Her tongue is fumbling and she starts over very often. Still, it doesn't matter, because I know she's doing it to please me. I put my hand over her head and start to massage her as she continues doing this. After a little while, she begins to get used to the process a little, and seems to be concentrating more.

A moan escapes me. It really does feel good, no matter if she has little experience or not. Realistically, girls like Olivia Burke knew exactly what to do to make me scream, and they knew how to do it better than Hermione, but none of them made me feel like this. So _wanted. _Like I actually _mattered _to them. I hear Hermione moan a barely audible moan and open my eyes.

"You okay?" I ask.

She nods, though she looks slightly bothered. A thought suddenly enters my head as I remember, and I almost slap myself.

"It's alright if you don't want to do it anymore," I tell her, "I know it isn't all that pleasurable for girls."

She smiles slightly, though she looks a little disappointed. She sighs and shrugs a little. "No, to tell the truth it isn't that nice," she says. "But I want to do it to make _you _feel good."

I shake my head and sit up. "No, forget it."

She frowns a little and looks down. "I bet Olivia and Lavender knew how to do it good." she mumbles. "I bet _they _liked it."

I sigh. "Forget about them 'Mione," I say, kissing her on the cheek.

"I just wish I knew more." she says, a little unhappily. "I want to show you how much I love you, and I want you to enjoy it."

I grin, despite of what she's saying. "Hermione, I _am _enjoying this. You make me feel better than those two _ever_ made feel."

She's quiet for a little while, then looks up and meets my eyes, looking a little embarrassed. "Yeah?" she asks quietly. "You're not just saying that?"

I take her hands and look at her firmly. "I completely mean it," I say fiercely. "Forget about experience, that's not what matters to me. I've wanted you for too long to care about that."

She smiles, still seeming slightly abashed, then leans forward kisses me hard. I pull her close to me, and kiss her back just as hard. She groans and I moan, as we do this. Her lips are crashing against mine with such intensity, and she's maneuvering her tongue with such perfection, I have to try a little to keep up. I put my hands on her face and kiss her deeper.

It feels as though we're both venting out years of bottled up emotion into each other. I want to get closer, and she scrambles onto my lap and pulls me by the shoulders as close to her as I can get. We kiss and lick and nibble our lips for quite a while, but with every second I feel like I need to get closer, but we cant possibly _get_ any closer. Frustration is creeping into me.

Sweat is starting to drench from our bodies. I feel wetness and stickiness on her face and on both our chests. My arms and her arms are extremely hot, and drops of moisture are forming with more and more speed.

I start to kiss her neck in desperate attempt to get the needed euphoria. She leans her head back as I do this, and I feel myself getting hard at the intense and tortured expression on her face.

My lips start to make their way down to her breasts and I start to kiss them. I place pecks on every inch of her skin, and then take in her nipple to suck on it. Hermione starts to moan and begins clinging closer to me. I start to get harder and harder at the sound of her voice, imagining what her face looks like right now as I do this.

I play with her nipple using my tongue for a while and open my eyes. I watch Hermione, who looks like she's torn between deciding whether she's in heaven or hell. She gasping and panting, and has her other breast enclosed in the grip of her hand. I continue to observe her, and liquid starts to escape from down under.

I make my way up to her neck again and kiss her while my hands start to fumble with her skirt. She gets up in order to allow me to off the piece of clothing, and I pull it off. She lays down and takes off her knickers.

I place myself next to her and smile. Carefully, I place my hand on her area and start to massage it slowly with my finger, making circular motions. She closes her eyes and moans as I do this. Her forehead creases slightly into a small frown and her mouth opens halfway. The pleasure on her face is clear with every stroke I make and I find myself getting increasingly turned on by her expressions and sound of her voice. It's amazing what looking at an aroused woman will do to a guy. Especially if she happens to be the girl of your dreams.

I start to work her faster, and her breaths become shorter and faster, her frown gets deeper, and her moans come out more frequent and with a more tortured note in them. My hand starts to become very sticky as liquid starts to escape from her. She bites her bottom lip as I start to slow down, and I feel myself getting harder than ever.

I take my hand out of her and she breathes slowly for a little while. She opens her eyes and looks at me with a very satisfied expression. I lean in a kiss her softly on the lips for a moment and then smile.

We look at each other for a little while, thinking. Right now, it feels as though Harry doesn't even exist. It feels as though everything we're doing is completely right. It's _ours. _This whole experience is ours. Our _feelings _belong to us and only us. And Harry should have never butt in. He shouldn't have interrupted something he obviously knew he was interrupting. Anger ignites in my stomach as the thoughts of him purposely taking Hermione from me return to my head.

_Why _did he do that? He knew I loved her. Why would he take her from me? _He _didn't love her. I _did. _I _do._

"You okay?" she asks, placing a hand on my cheek.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."

And after a few more kisses, we do it. We have sex. And nothing has ever felt so sweet.

**(T)(H)(e)-(B)(U)RR(O)(W)**

I've been at the Burrow for four days now, celebrating Christmas. The holidays have never felt so strange. Since I wasn't here for long during the summer, I haven't really had the chance to observe the way my family has been after the war with Voldemort ended.

Everyone seems very at peace with everything. Mum and Dad are being more romantic with each other, and behaving very jolly all the time. They go around kissing all of us and trying to talk to everyone about current events and life and vacations. Dad's gotten a promotion at work, so he's very happy that he can get us presents more desirable than the ones we used to get. We're very happy with that as well. The atmosphere has just been nice.

Of course, it's also been very awkward at times. This is the first Christmas we've spent together after Percy's death. Every now and then, someone will bring up his name or remember some funny old story in which Percy was involved. Mum always seems close to tears at the mention of him, and bustles out of the room whenever the situation arises. Dad always looks tense, and is quick to change the subject.

I think it's hard on all of us. Percy's memory, I mean. He was on such bad terms with this family when his time had come. I don't think anyone here can say that they don't regret being angry with him. I mean, he was _Percy. _Weren't his actions very expected? He had _always_ been the overly-ambitious and blinded-by-glory idiot that he had been when he had chosen to stick with the wrong people.

He didn't do it to be evil, or to _help _evil. He did it because he was stupid and gullible. Hey, it was his personality. Can't fault him for it.

But nobody wants to talk about it. I wonder if we ever will.

The days have also been strange because Ginny and I are still refusing to talk to each other, and whenever someone asks if we got into a fight, neither of us says anything; we just look away moodily. I think she actually _told _the family something because for the last two days people have been looking at me a little suspiciously. Maybe it's because I'm responsible for Harry not being here, which I think they resent me for.

But maybe it's because I've been lost in thought all the time. Usually, I'm all outgoing and loud and obnoxious during the holidays, but this time I've been all reserved and have kept to myself.

I can't help it. Five days ago I found out that the girl I'm in love with is in love with _me. _I also _slept _with said girl not that long ago. What the hell am I _supposed _to think about? Presents? _No._

All that's been on my mind is Hermione. How long has she loved me for? Does she love me as much as I love her, or do I love her more? Did she ever love _Harry? _Does she think there's any hope for us?

I have all these questions for her, and I want answers. I don't want to write them in a letter, either. I want to talk to her face to face. . .

I've been thinking about Harry too. I wrote him a get-well/apology letter along with his present, and he wrote back a very vague "It's okay" kind of thing and sent me a very small box of Chocolate Frogs, which is strange because he had told me that I would be receiving a great gift this year and that he couldn't wait until I saw it.

Which means he's still mad at me.

And I'm mad at him.

Every time I think about how he stole Hermione from me, I feel like punching someone. What kind of friend is he? He deliberately took someone I was in love with, while he didn't even feel that way about them. Who _does_ that? I mean--

My thoughts are interrupted as someone knocks on my bedroom door.

"Ron?" It's Charlie.

"Come in." I say.

The door opens, and in comes my big brother. Charlie looks much better this year. He's cut his hair (much to Mum's relief), and he looks surprisingly more handsome this way.

I look at his face and notice that he's wearing a serious expression. "What's up?" I ask.

He sits down on the foot of my bed, facing me. He sighs. "I need to talk to you." he says.

I sit up, a little anxious. He seems to have something important to say.

"Okay," I say slowly.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Ron," he says. "The whole family's been a little worried about your behavior these past few days."

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine--"

"I asked Ginny if she knows what's wrong with you, and she told me that she thinks you and Hermione are having an affair behind Harry's back," he says in a rush.

My eyes widen slightly as I hear him say this. I can't believe Ginny.

"Is it true?" he asks anxiously.

I look away from his gaze. Ginny did this on purpose. She knows that I can't lie to Charlie. She knows that even if I tried to lie to him, he wouldn't believe me. I sigh. But maybe it would be good to talk to someone about it. . .

"Before you say anything," he says, "I just want you to know that no matter what, I'll have your back."

I'm silent for a few moments, and then I mumble, "It. . .it's true."

I look up at him and am surprised to find that he has a very knowing, yet weary expression on his face.

He sighs and puts his face in his hands.

Suddenly I feel angry. "You said you'd have my back!" I say defensively.

He glances at me. "I do," he says. "It's just that I always wondered when this would happen."

I raise my eyebrows. "So you're telling me you expected this?"

He nods. "Always. You and Hermione have had feelings for each other since, what, age twelve? And she went tied herself up in a relationship she hated with the worst possible person she could."

I'm speechless.

"I always wondered what she was thinking, getting herself into a relationship with Harry, all the while fully knowing how she feels about you." he says this, shaking his head. "So tell me, what happened?"

Feeling better about talking to him, I tell him the whole story. I explain about last summer, about this year, about Harry being mad at me, and about us sleeping with each other before these holidays. I feel very happy that he doesn't make faces of disapproval at what I tell him; he simply nods and listens. After I'm done, he sighs again.

"Do you think Harry will forgive us?" I ask him. Charlie always has the answers.

He shrugs and looks away. "I don't know, Ron." he says. "This is a very serious problem. . ."

I don't respond. Obviously, he doesn't think there's much hope for our friendship.

"It could very well go the good way or bad way right now," he says. He pauses. "But what was Harry thinking when he asked Hermione out? He must have known. . ."

"That's what I thought!" I say immediately. "I'm the one who should be angry! What kind of friend purposely takes away their best friend's ideal girl? He _must _have known! I'm not that hard to figure out, am I?"

He nods, looking at the wall. "Yes, you're right. . .but at the same time. . ."

"What?" I ask, a little annoyed. "You can't justify that!"

"At the same time," he says, ignoring me, "you never made a move."

I gape at him. "That's not the point!" I exclaim. "The point is, he knew how I felt, and he still went for it!"

Charlie shakes his head. "Yeah but, Ron, you never admitted to it. Not even to him. What was Harry supposed to do if he started having feelings for Hermione and you just sat around doing nothing? Was he supposed to wait for you to make a move, when there was a possibility that you never would?"

I think about this for a while. "He could have talked to me about it," I say. "He shouldn't have pretended to have no idea what was going on, and then just give me that slap in the face."

"Maybe." he says. "But right now, you have to deal with the decisions you've made. You have to realize that betrayal is betrayal, and you have to solve things. The right way."

I breathe in for a little while. "But how am I supposed to know what's right? When I'm with Hermione, what might be wrong to do to Harry, is the right thing to do to her. How do I choose?"

He shrugs thoughtfully. "I don't think it's a matter of choosing. I think it's a matter of setting you priorities--"

"Have you ever been in love, Charlie?" I ask, interrupting him.

He looks at me surprised. "What?"

"Have you ever been in love?" I repeat. "Like madly in love."

He thinks for a while. "I'm. . .not sure."

"If you're not sure, then you haven't been. Because if you had, you'd remember." I say.

"Okay," he says slowly. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything." I say. "It's not about priorities. It's about deciding whether love or friendship is more important."

"Those _are _priorities," he points out.

I sigh. He's right.

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed that. I don't like how it ends, but hey. I'm sorry this update took so long, but love scenes are very hard to write.**


	9. A Distant Welcome

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I really love it when I get new readers, but I love it even more when people who have been reviewing for a while or have been reading from the beginning do so. It lets me know I have loyal readers. **

**You'll find that I will be updating more frequently (like once a week). I'm determined to finish this before my summer holidays begin, though now I'm not sure that's possible.**

_Secrets_

Chapter IX: A Distant Welcome

"Bye Mum," I say heavily, "and you Dad."

I give my teary-looking parents one last goodbye hug and begin to make way to the famous platform connecting this Muggle station to the magical one beyond it. With my trunk on a trolley and book tucked beneath my arm, I push the cart and run through the barrier at King's Cross after checking that the coast is clear.

At once, a bunch of familiar faces come into view, as I enter the Hogwarts Express station. I greet a few people, and then start searching around for Ron. I squint everywhere, hoping to find some red hair in the crowd, but none comes to view. After a few minutes of fruitless looking I decide to board the train, concluding that he probably entered the Express earlier.

As I walk down the corridor of the train, I say hello to a few other people. The walk to my compartment is a bit of a longer walk than most others are put through. The Head Boy/Girl compartment is located all the way in the back of the train. It used to be located at the front, but then the staff realized that people towards the back of the train feel freer to fool around due to the lack ofauthority in that area.

I pass a few compartments, and spot Ginny inside one. When she looks out the door window and sees me, I smile awkwardly and wave slightly, but she simply looks at me with a blank expression, then draws her attention elsewhere.

With an annoyed frown I continue to make my way to my compartment. Ron told me that he had had an argument with Ginny and that they're both currently mad at each other, but I never figured Ginny would take it out on me just because I speak to him. Honestly.

Finally, I reach my stop and glance inside. Ron's already sitting in there, snacking on crackers and cheese. I smile and open the door.

"Ron!" I say, hugging him as he stands up. "I missed you."

We draw away from each other and smile. He greets me and looks at me for a second. Suddenly, I think he's trying to kiss me, and I look away before I can be sure. I glance at him again and see that he's a little hurt. Quickly, I kiss him on the lips and draw away.

"How was your holiday?" he asks as I sit down.

"Wonderful," I say at once. "My parents were so happy to see me, and I really got to spend some alone time with each of them. It was great. We did so many things. . ."

I go on to explain everything I did with my family during the week, and immediately start to feel a little homesick. This was the first time I'd spent a happy, long holiday since I was about fourteen. Not even. All my summers and Christmases were spent either a Ron's house or some other location. I've really been missing my parents for the last few years. I feel a tug of desire in my stomach; I really wish I could spend more time with them.

At home, everything felt better. I didn't have any problems. The whole situation with Harry was like. . .in a completely different world, so far away from me that it seemed worthless to think about. It was easy to ignore. I didn't feel guilty about daydreaming of Ron. I didn't feel bad when I replayed everything he'd said and did to me before the vacation. I had hardly thought of Harry at all over the holidays.

There was only one moment when he seriously came into my thoughts. I'd spent almost a whole night thinking about Ron and me, and how everything was going to turn out. Harry's so tied in with this situation of Ron that I found myself wondering about him for hours. I'd planned to talk to my mum about it in the morning, but changed my mind after actually seeing her. My mother, as good a person as she might be, holds strong images and expectations of people. If I told her that I cheated on Harry with Ron while she and Dad were out, she'd never look at me the same way. . .

I sigh. But other than that, Harry had been easy to keep out of my mind.

And then the time had come for me to wake up this morning, and everything just came rushing back in an instant, so that I was no longer in La-La Land. I could hardly eat my breakfast. I couldn't even look at my parents. They asked me what was wrong, and I said nothing, secretly thinking that they could read my every thought.

"Are you okay?" I hear Ron asking me suddenly. I look at him to see a puzzled look on his face. "You're rambling."

I really should keep my feet on the ground more while I'm speaking.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I'm a little distracted. . . So. . .er, how was _your_ holiday?"

He's silent for a moment. "For the most part pretty good. . .but I need to talk to you about the rest."

I nod, feeling a little anxious. He looks nervous suddenly, and I wonder what he's going to say.

"Listen, Ginny isn't speaking to me because she suspects that you and me are having an affair," he says, not looking at me, "and she told Charlie."

My eyes widen and my jaw drops, leaving my mouth half-open. No _wonder _she's been so off lately. Ron never clarified why he and his sister were angry at each other, and now that I hear the reason, I wish I hadn't. How many people has she told, exactly? Aren't she and Harry close? What if she told _him _something?

I can feel my body getting very warm.

"Charlie confronted me," he continues, "and I confessed. I just had to tell someone, and Charlie seemed to be the perfect person, even if it hadn't been my idea."

I can't bring myself to say anything. This doesn't feel good. And I don't like the idea of Charlie Weasley having misconceptions of me.

"He promised to keep it a secret," I hear Ron say.

After a few moments of pause, I speak. "And what did he say?"

"He said he knew something like this was going to happen sooner or later if you didn't break up with Harry soon," he tells me.

My eyes widen with surprise.

"He said that everyone's known about how we've felt for years, and that he didn't understand why you agreed to go out with Harry in the first place," he stops talking and looks at me, and I realize that he wants me to say something. To answer the question and tell him why.

I'm not sure what to tell him. The truth? Would he be angry if I told him that I got into a relationship with Harry to try and fall out of love with _him? _Would he resent me for trying to get rid of my feelings? Would he be mad if I told him that I really got _tired _of having feelings for him, because I thought he'd never return them?

What do I say?

"Why _did _you go out with Harry? Why _do _you?" he asks, looking at me hard and determined to get an answer.

I look away and sigh. I don't want to tell him. He'll think I'm stupid. Maybe I should lie. I look at his eyes and immediately erase the possibility. I can't lie with him looking at me so intently. . .he'll see right through me.

"I guess," I say in a wobbly voice, "I guess I did it to. . .try and get rid of you."

A confused expression appears on his face after this. "What do you mean?"

I avoid his gaze determinedly. This isn't easy. Telling him all this, I mean. It isn't sweet like an "I love you" type of thing. He had me agonized for years because of his thickness and indifference to my existence. This doesn't bring back nice memories.

"I didn't _want _to love you," I say, more fiercely than I'd planned.

A hurt look replaces his confusion. "Why?" he asks quietly. "Did you think I wasn't worth it?"

And the truth is, sometimes I really _didn't _think he was worth all the pain. I figured, hey, if he couldn't see what I was worth, then maybe I was going after the wrong guy.

But then most of the time, these feelings were suppressed by thoughts of the complete opposite. I often thought, what if it's _him _that's too good for _me?_ I mean, he's the warm person, not me. He's the lovable, good-looking guy, while I'm the often icy, distant bookworm. And those were my sentiments for the last few years. Sometimes I still feel that way.

I shake my head. "No," I say, in a wobbly voice. "I just didn't feel like pining after some idiot who didn't really see me most of the time."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, looking confused again. "I _always _saw you, practically everyday--"

"Not like that!" I burst. "I meant that you didn't see me as. . .as a _real _girl."

His expression softens. "I never looked at you in another way. Well, maybe in first year," he adds with a laugh, "but from then on, of course I saw you as a girl, even if I didn't realize it at first."

I sniff a little indignantly. "Well, you sure never showed it," I say. "You never seemed to really think of me as other than your smart friend."

"I'm sorry." he says gently.

"It's alright, I guess," I say, wiping my eyes. "But anyway. When Harry asked me to date him, I figured maybe this was a good chance to get my thoughts off you. If I actually dated someone instead of thinking about you all the time, I reckoned I'd get over my crush."

He looks at me for a while, as if trying to take this all in while simultaneously attempting to read my thoughts. "Did it work?" he asks.

I look at him sharply. "Of course it didn't work!" I exclaim, a little annoyed. "Didn't I just get done telling you that I love you a week ago?"

Jesus. Does he think that I'd sleep with him and tell him I love him and not mean it?

He sighs. "But did you ever stop having feelings for me?" he asks. "Even for a little while?"

I shake my head. "No," I tell him. "I never managed to fall for Harry."

He sighs again with what seems like relief. "Good," he says.

We stay silent for a while. I look out the compartment window and feel a slow dread seeping through me. We're going back. I'm going to have to face Harry again. I'm going to have to face my problems. I groan inwardly. I _really _don't want to go back. . .

But I have to. And I have to start fixing things now.

"Ron." I say, after a few minutes of thinking.

He looks up from his thoughts. "Yeah?"

I take a breath. "Listen, now that we've settled everything between you and me, I have to fix things with Harry." I say.

He nods. "I know."

I twiddle with my hands a bit. "So I think it would be best if you and me went back to normal. Until everything's done and settled."

"Normal?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. We should act like friends. We shouldn't go around kissing and cuddling behind Harry's back. I wouldn't feel right if I was kissing you every time Harry left the room. I think we should keep at least the physical part of our relationship. . .strictly friendly."

He nods, but has a slight frown. "You're not saying that you don't have feelings for me, are you?"

I shake my head immediately. "No!" I exclaim. "I just meant that I don't think we should turn this into a full-blown affair. I need to have _some _dignity in all this. I wouldn't dare ask for Harry's forgiveness if I was having a completely agreed on sexual relationship behind his back."

"You're right," he says. "We need to stop. But you have to fix things with Harry. We both do."

"I will."

He gives me a serious look after these words. "But you need to start fast. Hermione, it's January third. Valentine's Day is just around the corner."

**(H)(o)(G)(W)(A)R(T)(S)**

As I enter the castle, the dreary feeling inside me grows stronger. Oh _God._ This place just brings back all the horribleness of the past months. Why does my life have to be this way? Didn't I deserve happiness after the war just like everyone else? Didn't Harry and Ron deserve it?

I glance sideways at Ron, who's standing next to me looking as gloomy as me. He's so close to me. Why's it so hard to be able to have him peacefully?

"So," I say quietly, "should we look for Harry?"

He nods unenthusiastically. "It's almost dinnertime." he says. "He's probably in the Great Hall."

We start walking to the Great Hall, and I tell myself to change my expression into a happier one. Or should I just leave it miserable? Sooner or later this charade will have to end. Will the dragging the act longer just make it harder?

A minute later we walk into the dinner hall to see almost half of Hogwarts sitting there already, most of who are hungry people who have just gotten off the train. I spot Harry, and as if forgetting all previous thought, I automatically put a small smile on my face.

Ron and I plop ourselves down on either side of Harry, who is looking straight ahead into space.

"Hi Harry!" I say cheerfully and give him a hug, feeling too shameful to kiss him.

"So how's you leg?" asks Ron, nonchalantly.

"Fine." The way Harry says the word is eerie. It's short and indifferent, and he still hasn't looked at either of us after thirty seconds.

I feel a pang of apprehension in my stomach. I quickly glance at Ron who looks baffled.

"So, um, how was your Christmas?" I ask, trying not to sound put off. "Did you like the scarf I gave you?"

"Yeah," he says, in the same weird way. "Did you like what I gave you?"

"It was great!" I say enthusiastically. "I really love it."

Which is a lie. Before the holidays Harry told me that he would be giving me a perfume he knew I would love. It was a magical kind that was charmed to smell different to each person. Every person would smell their favorite kind of perfume, and the wearer would smell their own preference too. That way, you'd smell good to everyone. I told him months ago that I would absolutely die for it.

Instead though, he sent me this other perfume, which I had specifically told him on the same afternoon that I thought smelled awful. I figured he had maybe confused the two.

"And what about you?" he asks Ron. "Did you like your gift?"

"Er, yeah!" says Ron happily. He's lying too. Weird.

"I tried very hard to pick out good presents," Harry says in a strange empty, yet falsely thoughtful tone. "I wanted to get only the best for my two best friends in the whole world."

I exchange another glance with Ron, who looks frightened. Why does Harry seem so weird? Surely he's not still angry about his leg. So then, what's wrong? He can't possibly know. . . If he suspected something, he would have started acting this way months ago. There shouldn't be any reason why he would pick now to find out. Ginny doesn't know Ron and I slept with each other before the holidays, so it wasn't her. Charlie wouldn't be dumb enough to owl Harry and tell him.

Something's wrong. Harry puts and arm around both Ron and me and smiles an odd smile.

"So how were _your _holidays?" he asks, in faux cheerful tone. "Anything new happen? Anything you want to tell me?"

Okay, now I'm really getting scared. Does he know something or not? But he doesn't have any possible way of knowing! I'm not about to spill something now and make a fool out of myself if he doesn't know. That would be a bad way for him to find out anyway.

I take a short breath. "Mine was fantastic. . .!"

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

Ron and I practically run to our common room and shove open the gargoyle door.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ron demands as we stumble in. "Why was he acting so weird?"

I shrug desperately. "Do you think he knows something?" I ask weakly.

"It really seemed like it!" he says, spreading his arms out in a helpless manner.

I bite my lip dreadfully. Slowly, tears are filling up my eyes. But he _can't _know! How would he? It's got to be something else.

"Maybe we're paranoid," I say after a while.

He sighs. "I don't know. You think it was a coincidence that he kept mentioning how much he trusts us and bringing up phrases like, 'we have no secrets from each other' and 'I really love our friendship'?"

"I don't know!" I spill. "But Ron, how would he know?"

For a few minutes we stare at each other, as if doing this would help the answer jump out from the darkness. We sit down in front of the fireplace and face each other.

I sigh. Maybe it _was_ Ginny that told him something. Maybe she just got tired of keeping quiet. I mean, she _did _tell Charlie. How many other people would she go off and tell? Maybe Ron was acting strangely that week and she felt that her suspicions were confirmed. . . Ron never was that good at hiding his feelings too well.

But why would Ginny do that? She's _my _friend too, isn't she? The image of her ignoring me on the train comes to mind and suddenly I don't feel too sure.

"Hermione!" Ron says suddenly.

Startled, I turn my head to look at him. "What is it?"

He's looking at my neck with fearful eyes. "You're _wearing_ it!"

I glance down at my neck and see the gold chain Harry gave me for my birthday. I forgot I was wearing this thing. . .

"I can't believe you forgot to take it off!" Ron says angrily. "Of course he knows!"

He breaks off in a panic, and I shake my head.

"Ron--"

"Hermione, for a smart person, how can you be so thick?" he shouts, getting up. "It was hanging on your neck this whole time, and you slept with me while you had it on--!"

"Ron, listen to me--"

"That thing lets Harry know everything! What you think, what you feel, what you do--"

"Ron--!"

"I just can't swallow that pill, Hermione. That you would forget to take off a chain that dangles from you neck--"

"_Ron!"_ I scream, irritated now. He stops rambling and looks at me. "Of course I didn't forget!"

"You took it off?" he asks. "I don't remember you removing it."

"No," I say. "I didn't take it off--"

"You see?" he snaps.

"_Listen!"_ I shout. "I broke the connection ages ago. He can't feel what I do with from his locket."

He frowns, confused. "I thought the only way to make it stop working was to take it off. . ."

I shake my head. "No. You can break the connection in two ways. One is to take it off, and the other is to take out your partner's picture. I took Harry's photo out months ago."

After he gave me this locket for my birthday, the paranoia was too much for me. I had so much going on in my head, and the last thing I needed was Harry to have a way to spy on me. It also didn't help that the stupid thing kept turning hot every other second to let me knowhe was thinking of me, either. It was like going on constant guilt trips. So I looked at the little paper which had a section on how to use this chain. It said that I could break his outgoing connection to me by removing his picture from the locket or just by taking it off. Since there was no feature that said he could sense when I took out his picture, I chose that method. Plus, as far as Harry knew, I was still wearing the chain, and his picture was still in it. I wouldn't have to explain why I took it off.

"Oh," says Ron, looking remorseful. "I'm sorry."

I sigh. He really does seem sorry. "It's fine," I say. "But honestly, I'm not that dumb."

"I know," he says, and for a moment he looks like he's going to kiss me, but then he backs off.

"It has to be something else that has him acting this way, Ron." I say. "He has no way of knowing. . . Unless Ginny told him something."

I look at him apprehensively.

He shakes his head. "No. There were no owls at our house. They were all out delivering gifts."

"Then it _is _something else."

**(T)(W)(o)-(W)(E)(E)(K)(S)-(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

It's mid-January, and Harry's still acting odd. He's not spending that much time with either of us. He's not talking much, and sometimes I catch him giving Ron hostile looks while he's not looking. Sometimes I can feel his eyes on me while _I'm _not looking. I wonder why he's being this way.

I don't know what to do anymore. I've asked him if something's wrong repeatedly, or if he needs to tell me something, but all he does is turn the questions around on me.

I look out into the darkness from my bed, and listen to the silence. Ron must be awake too. He's not snoring.

I've been trying so hard to figure out what's wrong with Harry that I haven't actually had the chance to settle anything between us about our relationship. I just keep getting this paranoid feeling that he knows something and I keep going over all the ways he could possibly know in my head.

I even asked Harry if he'd talked to Ginny about everything during the holidays, and he said no. It sounded like the truth to me. . .

God, what am I going to do? February will be starting any day now and I haven't thought of a way out of my dilemma. The only possible solution that can come to mind is that maybe Harry will still be moody and decide that he really doesn't want to have sex.

I close my eyes.

I just hope everything falls into place.

**A/N: You know, I've never spent so much time thinking about a story like I do this one. There are so many ways I could take it. So many different emotions and decisions I can have them make that dramatically change everything. . .I hope you guys will be satisfied.**


	10. A Row

**A/N: As always, thank you for the reviews. I've changed my pen name to 'Loraine's My Name,' so take note of that, if you please. There's also a problem with a thirteen year-old maniac who not only has no place writing a story including graphic sex scenes, but is also claiming that I stole this story idea from her, disregarding the fact that I posted this up about a year before she did. So now she's threatening to report me if I don't take this down. Too bad, this is staying up (as if I'm really going to take this down when I only have three more chapters to go after this one).**

**And by the way, I've no idea when the second Quidditch match at Hogwarts usually takes place.**

**PS- This chapter has been edited (yes, already).**

_Secrets_

Chapter X: A Row

Exasperated, I look at the team. "Okay, guys," I say, "I guess we're just going to have to start without Harry. In the meantime, run some basics."

I put my hand above my eyes to shield them from the sunlight and squint toward the castle for Harry's figure. He's nowhere in sight. _Why the hell isn't he here? _Tomorrow is our second match of the Quidditch season against Slytherin. I told Harry how important it was for him to come to this practice on time. I've spent hours devising tactics. I've had people spy on the other team. I worked so damn hard last night to put a good play together, adding the finishing touches, and today we need to spend a good number of hours practicing it.

Every player needs to hear exactly what they need to do and what to watch out for. Harry's the damn Seeker; he should know that his part is extremely important. He's been on the team longer than I have, and should be even more pumped up about winning the cup than me.

And he's been so competitive since the beginning of the year, so I don't understand the change. He's been practicing on his own practically everyday. Well, at least he _was _until he started acting like a prick.

I sigh.

I'm so _sick _of this crap! If he knows something about me and Hermione, why doesn't he just punch me and give me hell for it, or tell me he understands? It'd be a lot better than him roaming around acting like some idiot right out of the Twilight Zone (whatever _that _means).

I just know that he knows something about Hermione and me. Hermione keeps insisting that it has to be something else, but I really doubt it. I think she's in denial. I don't know how Harry would know anything, but I'm almost completely positive that that's what it is. If it was something else, he'd tell us about it. And he wouldn't be making creepily convenient comments about friendship in every conversation.

I honestly just want to finish this. I want to tell Harry everything. I wish he'd just come out and say whatever he knows so that I could explain. Still though, Hermione has a right to fix her relationship with him. I wish she'd do it soon. . .

A wave of doom starts to wash over me. Today is the first of February and Hermione still hasn't done anything to change the current situation. She's all wound up with the idea that she just _has _to find out what Harry's problem is. She says she wants to make sure he's not going through something serious before she goes and drops the news on him and makes him even more depressed that he already is. She ignores me when I tell her that Harry's problem is us.

I clench my fists.

If Harry knows something, it'd be better to go up to him right now and put an end to this. Not to keep playing it out as if everything really is perfectly fine and normal. It's time we start acting like Gryffindors instead of cowards. It'll be a hard scene to live through, but we've got to face it. Besides, I have things to ask Harry anyway.

I look around at the team; everyone's getting warmed up. Seriously, where _fuck _could Harry be? What's he doing? He's forty damn minutes late! It's completely unacceptable. And I've reminded him about this practice everyday for the past week, including this morning at breakfast! He can't have _forgotten._

_He's doing it on purpose._

I sigh, my insides boiling. I guess we should just do this without him.

"Everyone pay attention!" I shout. "Harry's not here but we need to go over the plan. . ."

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

After four hours of rough practice, I exit the locker room, feeling uneasy and more pissed off than before. Harry didn't show up at all. _At all._ He didn't even manage to be incredibly late. He was just a no-show. I swear, whatever his reason is, it'd better be a good one. If he doesn't come clean about his problem now, I'll explode.

Now I'm going to have to spend time with him alone telling him how everything's gotta happen tomorrow.

Irritated, I start looking for him. Now. . .where would he be? Not in the library. Not in the kitchens; dinner passed half an hour ago. I'll have to thank him for making me miss it.

Maybe he's in the common room. With my broom over my shoulder, I begin my walk to the Gryffindor common room. It's been quite a while since I've been there, I realize. I miss the place. Having a nice big private dorm and common room is nice, but I always enjoyed talking to the guys at night and just hanging out by the fire in the common room with my fellow Gryffindors near me.

Not that I don't enjoy being alone with Hermione, because I do; it's just that I was always more _myself _with the other Gryffindor guys around. Being so isolated from everyone and being alone with the person whom I share a huge problem with is like a constant reminder that something bad is going to happen eventually.

By now, we're both agreed we have to tell Harry. It's just a matter of breaking it to him at the appropriate moment. It'd also be a good idea to tell him at a time when things aren't so shaky.

Which is why I'm anticipating seeing him a little. I don't think I'll be able to keep calm when I get a hold of him.

I reach the Fat Lady's portrait, give her the password, and stroll into the common room, which is buzzing with activity. I search for Harry for a few minutes, and can't see him.

Neville, who is sitting at a table with Trevor, looks up at me and smiles. I walk up to him and ask him if he knows where Harry is. He nods.

"He's up in the dorm," he says. "He's been pretty quiet all day. Wasn't he supposed to be at practice?"

"Yeah," I say, a little fiercely. "So is he sick or something?"

He frowns for a moment then shakes his head. "I don't think so. But he does seem a little strange lately."

I sigh. Figures. "Well, thanks Neville." I say. "I'll just go up and see him."

"Good luck tomorrow!" I hear him say as I walk away.

I start to walk up the stairs to my old dorm, feeling a mixture of nostalgia, anger, and nervousness hit me all at the same time. Pushing all thoughts aside and clearing my mind, I open the door to Harry's room as soon as I reach it.

He looks up from something he's writing at his desk, rolls his eyes as soon as he sees me, and turns back around to continue writing. Irritation wells up from me.

"So what was that for?" I snap.

"What was what for?" he says tonelessly, his back to me.

"The little eye-roll you just gave me," I say savagely.

He shrugs and doesn't say anything. It rattles my nerves immensely, and I have to put all the energy within me to restrain myself from hitting him. I take a deep breath.

"And you missed practice because of what?" I demand, unable to keep the anger out of my tone.

"I was busy," he answers, still not facing me.

At these words I feel like throwing up. "_Busy?"_ I seethe. "You _busy _after I gave you a million reminders that today would be an important day to be at the field?"

"That's right."

For a moment, I'm speechless. "With _what?"_ I growl.

I hear him give an exasperated sigh. "With nothing that concerns you."

My breathing is becoming shorter and shorter with every second that passes. He's angry at me, that's obvious, but I don't think it could rival how mad I feel towards him right now. Or for the past couple of years, when I think about it. If I wanted to, I could hurt him so badly right now. I'm better off than him physically. . .

_Control yourself._

Slowly, I take a deep breath. _Tomorrow's the match, don't be stupid._

"_Fine."_ I spit. "But are you planning on going to the match tomorrow? Or will you be 'busy?'"

He stops moving his quill across the piece of parchment he's writing on and sighs once more. "It so happens that I _do _plan on going tomorrow."

"Good." I say, teeth clenched. "Then just remember to pay attention carefully to everything. You can't catch the snitch before we're at least eighty points in the lead, got it?"

He nods, not bothering to face me still.

"All you have to do is pay attention to the math." I say, my voice shaky with annoyance. "Don't fuck it up."

**(T)(H)(E)-(M)(A)(T)C(H)**

"_Come on, Danny!"_ I shout from my goalpost, watching as one of the team's new Chasers soars across the field towards the Slytherin hoops.

I take a sharp breath as he raises the Quaffle in his arm and throws is fiercely at the middle hoop and. . .it gets stopped by that oily-skinned brat, Neil Rogers.

I curse loudly. This game is getting to be infuriating. None of the Slytherins are behaving the way they were at their practices, and the signals I told my team to watch out for haven't shown once throughout the whole match.

We've scored eleven times and the Slytherins, eighteen, putting us down by seventy points. Their success in scoring so much has really started to get on my nerves. The entire opposing team has brooms that fly ten times as fast as any Gryffindor's broom. I just hope Harry manages to out-fly Malfoy when the time in question comes. . .or that my Chasers score more and that I save more goals.

". . .and now Nathan Willowsky from Slytherin clutches the Quaffle safely in hand. . .he races past Ginny Weasely. . .pushes Kevin Stone aside. . .he's getting closer to the goalposts. . ."

As I hear some girl's voice commentating the match, I grip my broom tighter, and prepare myself to save this goal. I look directly at Willowsky, who's about twice my size and has never looked more ferocious, and tell myself to focus. Ginny and the other Chasers are racing behind him, but they'll never reach him in time.

Willowsky raises the ball and throws it like a bullet at the hoop to my right. I lunge for it, but miss narrowly.

"_Damn it!"_ I shout, feeling more impatient than ever.

". . .and now it's one-ninety, to one-ten, Slytherin!" comes the commentator's voice. She sounds awful happy. Must be a Slytherin, I think to myself.

". . .now Weasley clutches the Quaffle. . ."

I gaze down at Ginny, who has managed to get a hold of the ball, flying as fast as she can at the other end of the field. _Come on. . ._

Two Slytherin Chasers start getting closer to her, and they surround her from either sides. One tries to make a grab for the ball, but Ginny grips it tighter. The other girl tries to take it now, but fails as well. It seems like she's going to make it, she starts to raise the ball to throw it, but suddenly she drops it as a Bludger hits her hard on the back.

Furiously, I look at Henry Farrow, one of the opposing Beaters, cackling with joy.

Ginny stops to rub her back, and one of the Chasers who was trying to get the Quaffle, gets it and starts to fly towards me.

_Okay. . . This is it. Save it!_

She zooms past everyone on the field with her high-powered broom, and launches the ball at my direction. I hurl myself at it and clutch the red ball in a tight grasp, and sigh with relief.

If I save more goals, maybe we can catch up and beat them. . .

Except, I don't. Over the next ten minutes, the Slytherins score nine more times, and stop every single Chaser who was tried to score for Gryffindor. This is a _nightmare._ With every goal that I miss, I feel myself getting angrier and more flustered and my concentration level lowers even more.

My stomach tightens as Irene, one of my Chasers grabs the Quaffle, and tries to score.

_Come on, just score!_

But Neil Rogers manages to catch the ball neatly, as though making no effort. It isn't fair. With their brooms, they can win at everything.

". . .and Potter seems to have spotted the Snitch, and is going after it. . ."

_What!_

. . .not a very smart idea, if he catches it, his team still loses by twenty points. . ."

With bulging eyes and my jaw dropped, my gaze follows Harry as he swerves past everyone on the field after a tiny, golden ball.

". . .making a very stupid mistake and Draco Malfoy is all too willing to let him make it. . ."

My gaze falls upon Malfoy who is sitting on his broom with an expression full of bewilderment, surprise, and most of all hilarity, as he watches Harry flying after the Snitch with folded arms. Everyone on the field has stopped to watch him as well.

". . .the Gryffindors seem a little shocked by this, and the Slytherins seem to be very content with Potter's attempt to catch the Snitch. I must say, what is Potter thinking? Surely, I'm speaking loud enough for him to hear. . ."

But Harry hasn't stopped. And five seconds later, his fingers are clasped tightly around the Snitch.

"And he catches it. Quite an original way to victory, but Slytherins win with a score of two-hundred and eightty to two-hundred and sixty. . ."

And for the first time ever, the whole stadium is quiet after a Quidditch match ends.

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

I don't think I've _ever_ been angrier in my entire life. _Ever._ Game plan understood or not, that was mistake Harry should _not _have made. I and five other angry Gryffindors enter the locker room to find Harry, already dressed in normal clothes.

For a moment, there's only silence in the room as everyone stares at Harry, both confused and angry. Then Josh Peck speaks up.

"_What _the _hell _was _that?" _he asks, with an expression that looks full of shock.

Harry shrugs. "I don't know."

There's a stunned silence. I can feel everyone around me exchanging glances with each other, but I'm focused on Harry. I just can't believe it's gotten this bad, and he still hasn't spoken a word.

"You don't _know?" _I say murderously. "How do you _not know _what that was all about? That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do!"

"It was a mistake," he says simply.

"A _mistake?"_ I ask, seething.

"Yeah," he says, still with that simple tone, "I added wrong in my head."

"You _added _wrong?" says Irene, looking at Harry disbelievingly.

He nods. "Uh-huh."

Five jaws drop around me. Mine gets clenched tighter. My fists do the same.

"And you didn't hear _anything _that the commentator was saying?" I demand. "You didn't find anything _funny _about how you were the only one still moving out there? You didn't find it _odd _that Malfoy was just sitting back while you chased after the Snitch?"

Harry stops and thinks. "Hmmmmmm. . ." he mutters in tilted tone. "Now that you mention it, I _did _wonder for a second there. . ."

My eyes narrow. "And you just happened to forget that I told you to wait until we were eighty points up too, did you?"

He bites his lip and pretends to concentrate hard. "I must have forgotten that, yeah."

"_What the hell?"_ someone mutters. Behind me, the team starts to whisper.

Harry sighs and mounts his broom over his shoulder and starts to walk towards the door, but is blocked by six bodies. He stops right in front of me and says, "Do you mind? I can't get through."

And it's as if, an explosion bursts within me. With all my might, I push him back, my anger bursting to be released.

"Yeah, I _mind!"_ I shout loudly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Ron!" I hear Ginny say. Someone grabs my arm, but I shake them off, and keep my gaze on Harry, who hit a locker and is staring at me with an almost mocking expression.

"What's my _problem_?" he laughs.

"You heard me!" I burst. "Just tell me what it is so we can settle it now!"

"Ron," says Janet Stout from behind me, "it's just a game, don't take it _that _seriously!"

"_Shut up!"_ I yell at her, making her shrink back in fright. "It's not '_just'_ the game!" I turn to Harry. "_Is _it, now?"

He glowers at me with a look of pure venom. Screw what Hermione said. If it has to come out now, it's coming out. I can't take it anymore.

"Okay guys," I hear Ginny say, "I think we should leave them alone. . ."

There's a murmur of frightened agreement among them, and they leave. After the door slams shut, we remains alone, glaring at each other in silence. We're silent for a few moments. Harry is giving me the nastiest look anyone has ever given me, and I'm doing the same.

"So you planning on saying anything?" I snap after a few minutes.

"Why should I?" he spits.

"Why _shouldn't _you?" I retort.

He smirks. "I don't think I'm the one that should have to."

Deep inside me I feel a familiar glint of doom light up, to be quickly quelled by anger. "And who are you expecting to do the job for you?" I demand.

He scoffs. "Are you serious?"

I feel a little uneasy at this question. I don't want to come across as a prick. Of course I know he wants _me_ to say it. But honestly, I'm too hostile at him for taking Hermione away from me to care. It's _him _that started this, really. Taking a friend's object of affection is worse than taking someone's. . ._not _object of affection, in my opinion.

"Yeah, I am." I snap. "Are you gonna answer andtell me what's wrong, or are you just gonna keep it your own secret forever?"

He looks at me innocently. "Would it be a _problem _if I kept it a secret? I mean, _you _must keep some from _me _every now and then, right?"

I glare at him, but say nothing.

He laughs. "See you later, Ron."

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

I walk into my common room about an hour later to be alone. Now I'm starting to question my approach to Harry. If he was angry before, he's probably furious now. As pissed as I am with him. . . I don't want to lose him forever.

I sigh and make my way to the dormitory. Slowly, I open the door and yawn.

_Great._

"Ginny, what the hell are you doing here?" I ask, extremely annoyed once again.

My sister is currently sitting on my bed, reading my post as if it's completely okay for her to do that. She looks up at me anxiously.

"I want to talk to you," she says. She puts down my letters and stares at me. "You didn't fight Harry, did you?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Good," she says. "You were pretty stupid back there, you know."

I glare at her in disbelief. "How was _I _stupid?" I demand. "Did you not see what he did?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I saw," she says, exasperated, "and don't blame him for doing it!"

Suddenly it hits me. I give Ginny the most disgusted look I've ever given her. "It was you, wasn't it?" I ask.

She frowns. "What?"

"You told him about Hermione and me, didn't you?" I say. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?"

She gives me a stony look. "For your information, I didn't tell Harry a _thing._" she says in a very articulate tone. "He must have figured it out himself."

"So he knows, does he?" I ask, feeling a strange feeling of panic rise within me. What is it with me? One second I want him to know, the next I don't.

She shrugs. "I'm guessing so. He's hasn't told me anything, but it's the only conclusion I can think of."

I sigh. "So what do you want?"

"I want you to tell him, Ron!" she snaps, suddenly. "I'm sick of seeing the three of you acting like this! It's a misery!"

"Yeah, well, it's not so easy, is it?" I say sarcastically.

"No, and it _shouldn't_ be!" she yells. "But it should be a lot better than going on the way you are now!"

I say nothing and she carries on.

"Honestly!" she bursts, stomping her foot. "I don't understand why you and Hermione would do this--"

"You just wouldn't get it!" I scream. "You're not _involved--"_

"Doesn't matter! Betrayal is betrayal!"

"Yes it _does _matter!" I shout. "You don't _know _about everything that's happened! You have no right to judge!"

She opens her mouth, then stops. "You know what, you're not going to get it. But just do everyone a favor and end this situation now. You're driving Harry crazy! He lost the match to get back at _you, _you know!"

**(L)(A)(T)(E)R**

Hermione comes into the common room about forty minutes after Ginny leaves, looking confused and torn. She sits down next to me on a couch.

"I spoke to Harry." she says quietly.

I look at her. "And what happened?" I ask.

She frowns, staring into space. "I don't know. He's really angry at you, Ron."

I shrug. I can't say I feel a lot of emotion at this. I've spent all day wasting my emotions. I'm empty now. Tired, I sigh.

"And I'm angry at him," I say.

We're quiet for a while. Then, "So is he mad at you, too?" I ask.

She shrugs, still frowning. "That's what I don't understand, Ron." she says. "He was acting nicer than he's been behavingeversince we came back."

I laugh wryly. "I don't get it. I get all the shit thrown at me for betraying him, and you get a welcome hug. Doesn't make sense."

She twists her hands on her lap for a few moments. "I still don't think he knows."

I feel a stab of impatience in my stomach. "Of _course _he knows!" I snap. "Can't you see that by now?"

"Then why wouldn't he be angry at me?" she snaps back. "You said it yourself; it doesn't make sense!"

"It doesn't matter!" I retort. "Everything he said to me pointed at it!"

"Well, he told _me _that he's just glad he has me to get him through things like this!" she shouts. "He said he can't _wait _until Valentine's Day!"

"He's putting you on a guilt trip." I conclude.

"No he's not!" she insists.

I roll my eyes. I can't argue anymore today. "So what are you planning to do about it anyway?"

She looks at me. "About what?"

"_Valentine's Day!"_ I snap again, losing my last nerve. Does _everyone _have to do this to me today?

"I'm going to tell him." she says. "It's the only thing I can do."

**A/N: I like this chapter, personally. Very heated. And I'm glad I have you guys torn between sides. That's the goal.**


	11. No Longer Secret

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was delayed. I have a new job and my hours free have changed. Plus I have finals. My attention's also been distracted by another fic that I want to start. But anyway, here's this next chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

_Secrets_

Chapter XI: No Longer Secret

This is going to be the worst day I'll ever have to live through. I just know it. The last two weeks have been a complete waste. I never took the chance to confront Harry. I just. . .

What if he's really going through something bad? What if he's having some kind of crisis? I could never forgive myself if I went up to him and made everything worse by telling him that his two best friends have betrayed him mercilessly. Twice.

Ron keeps saying that Harry already knows. Sometimes, I think that's true, but most of the time, I can't help but suspect that it might be something completely different. I mean, if Harry had somehow found out about Ron and me, then wouldn't he confront us right away? Is that the kind of thing that people can just keep to themselves and wait until the other person brings it up? I've never heard of anyone, no matter how calm, be able to do that. And Harry was never _that _much of a pacifist, nor is he that much of a patient person.

I know that lately Harry's behavior can hardly be called patient, but I really truly think that Harry would have said something the moment he suspected us. Instead, he's been acting all nice and romantic to me. Why would he be like that if he thinks that I've been unfaithful? He and Ron still haven't spoken to each other since their fight, but still. Their fight was over Quidditch, not relationships. Or maybe it was over something else, I'm not sure, but either way, there was no mention of cheating. And I'm positive that there would be. It just all leads me to believe that maybe he still really _doesn't _know anything.

I sigh.

But that doesn't matter today. No matter what the situation is like today, I'll have to let him know. I have to tell him the truth.

It's Valentine's Day. Harry is expecting me to sleep with him in a few hours, while I'm planning to break his heart. I can't believe I've let time tick by so much, not doing anything about this. I just don't know what's happened to me. I used to be so much smarter. What changed?

I sit up in my bed and look at the clock on my bedside table. It's eleven in the morning. I've been awake all night, thinking. I must look a mess.

Groggily, I step off my four poster and stand for a few moments. I close my eyes and breathe. _Things have to be done today._ I open my eyes and look at the empty bed in front of me. I know that Ron got up much earlier than I did. I heard him climbing out of bed a few hours ago.

I need to talk to him. I think he's mad at me. We didn't have a big argument or anything, but he's been insisting that I confront Harry everyday, and after seeing that I wasn't going to do it anytime soon, I think he gave up hope about four days ago. So he's been acting moody and fed up towards me lately, and I don't think he wants to be near me until everything's settled and done with. It makes me feel like an idiot. It's as if he already knows how everything needs to go and I need to catch onto the program. Well, it isn't as if my concerns are that far-fetched. He should at least give them some real thought before getting all angry.

Just as I get ready to find him, I see a note on my bedside table. It's Ron's handwriting, I see. It says;

_Went to Hogsmeade early. Good luck, and don't it screw up. I'll be back early._

_Ron_

Of course. Today everyone's going to Hogsmeade for their Valentine's Day holidays. It was another reason why Harry thought this day would be so perfect for us to do this; Ron would have a perfectly good and legitimate reason to be somewhere else.

We agreed that my dormitory would be the best place to do it for obvious reasons. Any of Harry's roommates could walk into his dorm at any point. Neville could decide that he doesn't want to go on the trip, or Seamus and Dean could decide that they want to come back from the village early. My dorm's just the obvious choice of place.

Right. I look around, deciding what to do next.

I guess I should get ready for my date. It's set for noon, only an hour away. My stomach clenches at the reminder. Okay, this is it. Today, there's no turning back. No excuse to escape. Harry must be told the truth, and I'm the one that has to do it.

I take a nervous breath.

I wonder what he'll say. I wonder how he'll react. Obviously, not nicely, but I wonder if it'll be as bad as I think it might be. Maybe he'll miraculously understand. Maybe he'll say that he somehow always saw it coming, like Charlie did. Maybe he'll just _get _it.

I roll my eyes at myself.

Who am I kidding? Harry will never understand. Why would he? Why _should _he? He's been betrayed by the two people who were first above all others to give him a family. He'll be angry and hurt, and he'll probably never be able to get over it. He'll end up saying something about not being able to find the forgiveness inside him. If he decides to forgive us now, it'll be a miracle.

I don't think we deserve it. No, actually, I just think _I _don't deserve it. I disobeyed all my principles and did things I don't believe in, I dragged Ron into this and ruined his friendship with Harry and his last year here at Hogwarts, I've lied and lied to Harry, and I've put off all opportunity to settle the situation. Now, it's too late, and I'm going to have to confess this secret to him at an unfavorable time, whether I like it or not.

I blink, and realize that I'm still standing in the middle my dorm staring out into space. Suddenly, I feel a lot gloomier than before. My eyes are a little misty. Oh God, I'm getting torn up before anything even happens.

_Okay, pull yourself together_, I tell myself. This is going to be a horrible day, but I've gotten myself into this. I need to face this once and for all. I should go get ready for today.

Feeling defeated, I look towards my dresser. I stand in front of it and open a drawer. For a few moments, I stare at all my clothes, neatly folded inside it. What do I wear? Would it be appropriate to get dressed as he expects me to be dressed when all I'm going to do is tell him that I've been unfaithful and our relationship needs to end?

I sigh.

Maybe I _shouldn't _get ready. Why would I? I'm not going to actually go through with the date, am I?

I bite my nails nervously.

Merlin, I don't even know how I'm actually going to do this. All I spent last night thinking about was today, yet I actually failed to make a plan. Most of my thoughts were consumed by what Harry's decision to either forgive or reject would be. I didn't actually make a plan on how or when to do it. I just pictured myself sitting in front of a hurt Harry crying my eyes out.

I close the drawer and sit on the edge of Ron's bed. Now I've got to actually plot this day out. I continue to chew on my nails for a few moments as I think. It would probably be smarter if I sit Harry down as soon as he gets here and try with all my strength to tell him everything, rather than to go through with the date and tell him the moment he wants to start doing what he's been waiting ages to do.

Yes, that would be the smarter thing to do. I walk up to my dresser again and pick out a plain white blouse to wear my uniform skirt. After I put them on I throw myself onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, waiting.

**(N)(o)(o)(N)**

Harry arrives on time. As soon as he walks through the gargoyle-door I know something's off. He too looks as if he threw on whatever clothes were the first he came across that matched. I walk up to him and give him a smile; I'm not sure if hugging him would be right. Before I can stop him though, he kisses me.

I try not to flinch, but don't manage.

He frowns, but there's something odd about his expression. He's trying to look concerned, but there's a weird glint in his eyes. . .

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You look like you've been crying."

I swallow and just look at him, unable to speak. I feel terrified. Completely petrified. He's standing right in front of me. Harry. The one I've known since I was twelve. The one I've been dating for two and a half years. The one I betrayed. On purpose. What the _hell _was I _thinking?_

"Hermione?"

I want to open my mouth and say something, but I can't. Knowing everything that I have to tell him has completely paralyzed me with fear. I just know he's going to despise me after this. Why did I ever cheat on him? Why didn't I just break up with him? Why did it just _have _to feel so right?

He puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me straight into my eyes with that same insincere expression. "Are you nervous?" he asks.

I nod, finally making some kind of reaction.

_Breathe._

Following my thought's command, I start to inhale and exhale, not realizing that I've been holding my breath.

"It's okay," he says. "I'm nervous too."

This is going to be hell. I watch him as he sits down on a couch and motions for me to sit next to him. I do so, but I avoid looking at him. Instead, I fumble with my hands on my lap and try to pull myself together. How am I going to _do_ this?

"So how do you feel?" he asks. "You look sick, but I guess it's understandable. I'm asking you to take a big step for our relationship. . ."

Harry's words don't register in my mind. He's rambling on about something that has to do with us, but I'm not even listening. All I can do is wonder how I'm going to shatter his little fantasy, and how I'm going to tell him that I've already done what he wants to do twice behind his back. With his best friend.

I'm starting to feel sicker with nausea by the second. I can't believe my life has come to this. I really can't. I can't believe I've gone from being one of the smartest, most loyal people in this castle to being a sleazy, backstabbing skank.

_I. Am **not.** A **skank**!_

And I'm _not!_ I can't believe I just called myself that. Am I a skank for losing my virginity to the one guy I really love? Am I? I can't even believe I'm thinking all this. This isn't the time.

I look at Harry, who is still speaking. The sick feeling rises again, and I seriously panic that I might throw up all over the floor. I can't do this. Maybe if I really _do _throw up it'll be an excuse to get out of this whole thing. I mean, I _will _tell him eventually, just at the right moment. If I do it now, he'll hate me forever no matter what.

_You've become such a coward._

My eyes start to moisten and I have to blink a few times to get them dry. It's true. I _have _become a coward. I've been running away from everything. From the truth, from my problems, from Harry, from Ron, and from myself. I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. Every time I do, I feel this shame. I look at my reflection and I just know, I've betrayed myself as badly as I've betrayed Harry. I've done so many things I don't believe in. It's despicable.

Suddenly I feel a jolt of surprise.

Harry has started to kiss my neck. I look at him with his eyes closed, pressing his lips against my skin, and try hard not to push him off. He pulls away and looks at me. He frowns again. I must look terrified.

"What is _wrong _with you?" he asks, in a slightly tilted tone.

I take a deep breath. Time to start. "I need to talk to you." I say, my voice trembling.

"You know what?" he asks, ignoring me. "I think we'd both feel a lot better if we just got to it right now."

Now it's my turn to frown. "What?" I ask.

He gets up and tugs on one of my arms, directing me towards the dorm. "Well, we're both so nervous," he says. "I think it'd be better if we just started doing it now."

I pull my arm away from him and stare at him. Why is he acting so strangely? The Harry I know would never talk like this. He's acting like this is all a _game _or something. And he sure doesn't look nervous to _me. _He looks. . .odd. Like he's up to something.

I shake my head and look at him. "Harry, I said I need to talk to you." I say, my nerves rushing back, but feeling more steady.

"Do we have to talk about it now?" he says, kissing me on the lips.

I shake myself off him. He's really acting weird. Something's just so off about him right now. I don't even know if I _should _tell him. The excuse to escape is so tempting that I almost decide on it.

But no. This has to end.

I open my mouth to speak, but he leans in again and kisses me hard. I try to pull myself off, but before I can make the effort, he wraps his arms around me and kisses me harder.

Oh my Lord.

With all my might I push against his chest and look him straight in the eyes. He's behaving so oddly that I feel some of my fear be replaced with indignation.

"Harry," I say, trying to keep myself calm for both of the scenarios I'm dealing with, "it's really important. Extremely important."

He gives me a disappointed look. "But isn't our relationship extremely important?" he asks. "We're going to take a big step. Don't ruin it."

And again, he kisses me. This time, it only lasts a second, because I push him off, hard.

Anger flashes through his eyes. A lot of anger. "Well, what is it?" he demands, the irritation audible in his tone.

I look at him, angry and impatient, and I already feel defeated. These conditions are definitely _not _the ones I was hoping for. But now, I've got to do it and get it over with.

"Harry, this can't happen." I say, looking at the wall behind him.

"What can't happen?" he asks, and in his voice, I hear something. It sounds like. . .he's waiting for something he expects. My stomach turns.

"This." I say, still not looking at him. "You and me."

I hear him give a knowing sigh. "And why _not?"_ he demands.

I look down at the floor. It's time for me to say it, I realize. It's time for me to tell him. But I can't bring myself to say the words. Suddenly I feel physically incapable of opening my mouth. It's as if I've forgotten how to speak.

"Is it because you're still not ready?" he asks, his tone on the edge of a breaking. "Is it because you've got some kind of problem?"

I don't say anything, and I still don't look up from the floor. My eyes are welling up with tears. Why do I have to go through with this? I've always been a good person. I don't deserve this.

"Or is it me?" I hear Harry say.

Still, I don't speak.

"It is, isn't it?" he drawls. Even though I'm not looking at him, it feels as if he's smirking. He's acting like he expected me to interrupt. He's acting as if he's provoking me into confessing.

"Tell me Hermione, what's wrong with me?" he asks.

I glance at him, but look away immediately. After a few moments of pause, he continues.

"Is it because I'm not handsome enough?" he asks, and starts to pace around me.

I look at him as he walks around me in a circle. More tears start to spill from my eyes. It feels like he's purposely attacking me. Like he's looking at me as though I'm some pest. I feel like trash.

"Is it because I'm not smart enough?"

He raises his eyebrow at me and rolls his eyes at my tears.

"Is it because I'm not that great of a boyfriend?"

He gives me a semi-sincere questioning look. He stops in front of me and stares at me for what seems like years. He starts to tap his foot slowly, waiting for me to say something. But I don't say anything. Finally, he speaks again and the question literally makes my heart stop.

"Is it because I'm not _Ron_?"

After he says the words, it's as if I go deaf. The silence penetrates my ears so much that I can feel them throb. I feel a feeling of confusion so intense that I feel like I've been woken up from a coma. I look around at my room, my bed, at Harry, at the window, at Crookshanks, at everything, and none of it seems real.

It's like this isn't even happening.

But it is.

I look at Harry, looking angry and hurt. He looks almost as bewildered as me. He looks wounded and betrayed. He looks shamefaced. And now, all _I _can feel is shame. And pain.

Tears start to pour from my eyes uncontrollably, and my whole body starts shaking. I'm sobbing like a little child, and I have to hug myself to control some of the tremors. In the past, if I cried, Harry would do all he could to make me feel better. Now, he's just staring at me as I suffer without the slightest trace of pity.

I don't know for how long I stand here, crying and sobbing and wiping tears away from my own face while Harry just stands in front of me, watching. After a while, I sit on my bed, telling myself to calm down. I guess what hurts the most out of all this is the way I'm having to tell him. The way he tried to make it play out. Right into his hands.

But I guess he deserves to win this one, doesn't he? I have no right to think this should be made easy for me.

After my sobbing is under some control, I finally speak. "So," I say, gulping, "you knew."

He glares at me so harshly that it stings. "Yes, of _course _I knew!" he snaps. "The damn locket's around your neck right now!"

I stare down at it, confused. "But I--I broke the connection," I say, bewildered. "I t-took out your picture."

He smirks. "That only stops you from feeling what _I_ do, Hermione!" he shouts. "If I still have _your _picture inside mine, and you're still wearing the stupid chain, I still know everything you do!"

I blink, feeling both more ashamed of myself and more confused than before. "But. . .the paper," I say. "It said. . ."

"It says exactly what I just told you!" he spits. "Check it yourself."

With fresh tears rolling down my face, I reach over to my bedside table and open the drawer. I take out the red piece of paper that had come with my locket and read.

**Breaking the Connection:**

_While True Love Connection Lockets can be both very useful and reassuring, sometimes they may become a bit intrusive and at other times, even irritating. Not to worry! It is possible to break the connection. This can be done in two ways:_

**1. Taking the locket off.**

_Taking the locket off completely breaks the connection between you and your partner. However, your partner **will **be able to feel a warning when you remove your chain._

**2. Removing the pictures. **

_The second way to break the connection would be by removing your partner's photograph from your locket. By doing this, you will break your partners outgoing connection to you._

I frown. That's exactly what I read the night that I decided to take Harry's picture from my chain. I look at Harry but he shakes his head.

"Turn it over." he says.

With dread, I turn the piece of paper over to find more gold writing on the back. Feeling like a complete idiot, I read:

_However, as long as your partner still keeps a picture of yourself inside their locket, your outgoing connection to them will still be present. Meaning, if you decide to remove your partner's photograph from your locket, you will no longer be able to feel any of the features provided by our product. If your partner in turn still keeps the photograph of yourself inside theirs, they will still remain with the power to feel the features from you. (Meaning anyone who owns a Connection Locket and places a photograph of yourself will be able to do so as well. For privacy concerns, please ask your local enchanted jewelry merchant to create one custom made. This will cost extra.) To completely break the connection, both people must remove the photographs._

_If True Love Connection Lockets weren't quite the type of Connection Lockets you were searching for, please note that we also create: Friendship Connection Lockets, Brothers Connection Lockets, Sisters Connection Lockets, Mother-Daughter Connection Lockets, Mother-Son Connection Lockets, Father-Daughter Connection Lockets, Father-Son Connection Lockets, Husband-Wife Connection Lockets, and many, many more!_

I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. All I had to do was turn a piece of paper over to completely understand how exactly Harry could still spy on me. But instead, I didn't, and I gave him a completely open window into my life. Wow. I truly have changed.

I look up at Harry, who is standing there with his face turning redder and redder by the moment. "So, now you're going to explain to me quite a few things Hermione--"

He breaks off as we hear someone stepping through the gargoyle door and walk into the common room.

He turns to me and smiles. "Just on time, isn't he?"

**A/N:** **Did you guys like it?**


	12. Confrontation

**A/N: The twelfth chapter, finally. Thank you for all your reviews, as always, they are wonderful encouragement. I've changed my name once again, so don't get confused trying to look for me under my old name.**

_Secrets_

Chapter XII: Confrontation

Nothing can describe the dread I feel as I step into the common room, knowing that the scene I'm gonna have to live through a few moments from now is going to be something I'll probably never forget. I'm gonna have to tell Harry that I betrayed him, that I took advantage of our friendship, and that I did it more than once. Not something to look forward to.

Still though, I'm not as nervous or depressed about this as I imagined I would be. Actually, I feel kind of indifferent about it. I mean, I don't want to have to do this and it irks me that I do have to, but at the same time, I just wanna get it over with already. All this crap has been going on for too long. It's been bugging me to the core, and I can't wait to just _move on._ I just want to _know _what's gonna happen already. I don't wanna have to wonder and worry anymore. I just can't find it in me to be afraid.

Plus, I'm still too pissed off at Harry to be as nervous as I was before. The anger is still coursing through my body. It isn't just about the game; it's about everything. I mean, does he really think that he's completely innocent in this? Please. He's got another thing coming. I'll admit, what Hermione and I did was wrong, but Harry's got quite a few questions to answer as well. Starting with–

"Ron!" I turn my head towards the dormitory door, to see Harry stepping out from it looking grim and mischievous. He looks pissed off too, but he's holding it in, I can tell. "You're just on time!"

I narrow my eyes slightly and examine him for a few moments. For a guy who's probably just been told that he's been cheated on, he looks barely touched. He doesn't seem too shocked. . .

Well. I guess I was right. He _did_ know. Otherwise he wouldn't look so frickin. . .strange.

"Am I?" I say, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of my tone. A small part of me tells me to watch my anger, but I ignore it.

He nods. "Oh yes," he says. "Hermione and I were just about to start a _very _interesting conversation."

I feel a small throb of the nerves.

Okay. So even my anger can't overshadow the fact that I _am_ going to have a lot of explaining to do. And a lot of these explanations won't sound that convincing. . .

Maybe I should try to take this more humbly. . .

But, _oh. _Just _look _at him! Standing there, looking all superior when he's got just as much to explain to me as I do him. He is _not _a complete victim, and he knows that. And if he doesn't, well I'll be the first to tell him.

A few seconds tick by.

I roll my eyes and then look at him seriously. "Well then," I say, "I guess the time's finally come to talk about it, hasn't it?"

No use beating around the bush.

He rolls his eyes with an expression of disgust on his face. "Yeah. It has."

We stand in front of each other, staring, giving each other cold looks. The scene fills me with a force of different emotions all at once. For one, I'm feeling exactly the way I'm acting: angry. Who does Harry really think he is? Does he really think that taking away someone's true love is okay? Does he think that he had the right to do that to me just because I'd never opened my mouth? I should have punched him the moment he announced his relationship with Hermione. It would have been completely justifiable. . .

On the other hand though, I'm feeling very saddened by all this. Never did I think that Harry and I would face each other, considering ourselves enemies, or even rivals. Never did I expect to be given such looks of venom from the person who I've considered to be my best friend in the whole world for so many years. It was always him and me on the same side, facing someone else. But now, we've been separated by resentment and anger. It hurts.

We both look over to the doorway, to see Hermione coming out into the common room, the floor creaking as she does so. She locks eyes with me for a moment, but immediately looks away.

She looks so hurt and ashamed that suddenly I feel like a coward for having left her here all alone. Why did we decide that she had to be the one to tell him? I should have been there with her when it happened. I mean, it takes two people to have sex, and if I remember correctly, I was one of them. This was both of our faults and I should have been there behind her from the moment Harry came for their date. I'm such an idiot.

She takes a deep breath and says, "Can we just. . .try to solve this as calmly as possible?"

"_Solve?"_ Harry asks disbelievingly. He lets out an astonished laugh and turns to Hermione. "You think this is going to be _solved_, Hermione?"

She looks away from him and blinks a couple of times, trying to dry the newly forming tears in her eyes. A feeling of protection starts to creep through my body, and I can feel myself getting more and more annoyed with Harry. I know that later I'll probably regret feeling like this, but right now I don't really give a damn.

"Can't we just explain, Harry?" she asks quietly.

His eyes widen with mocking surprise. "You think I want you to _explain?"_ he asks sarcastically. "Why in the world would I want you to do _that?"_

"Leave her alone, Harry!" I snap, irritated.

His head turns quickly to face me, and he still has that disgusted and disbelieving expression plastered on his face. He narrows his eyes slightly and shakes his head. "You think you deserve pity, Ron?" he asks.

"Do you think _you _do?" I half-shout.

"I think I deserve to be given some _respect_ right about now!" he retorts, his cool demeanor breaking for the first time. "After you've betrayed everything we've had, making a fool out of me along the way, I think I deserve _that _much!"

I'm just about to retort when he Hermione says, "He's right, Ron!"

I look at her, and see that she's giving me a hard look. "We've done wrong," she continues, "and we should explain this _rationally_."

She emphasizes the last word, letting me know that my behavior is probably making her panic. I sigh. I _should _act more ashamed. It isn't just my friendship with Harry on the line.

Still. . .I can't bring myself to apologize.

We stop talking for a few moments and just stand, avoiding each other's eyes. The room gets deadly quiet, and an uncomfortable feeling of awkwardness takes over. Hermione catches my eye, but again, looks away quickly.

My face starts to get hot suddenly, and ever so slowly, my conscience is starting to control me. I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I've been caught by Harry of hiding the biggest lie I've ever told. Well. . .the biggest lie I've ever played along with. Slowly, the shame starts to nag me, and I feel myself getting increasingly embarrassed.

I'm suddenly startled as Harry stomps his foot on the floor loudly and impatiently.

"_Well?"_ he practically shouts, seething. "What's the 'explanation'?"

Hermione, looking shaken, swallows loudly and starts to stammer. "Well. . .it started with. . .I didn't think. . . W-wouldn't it be better if we sat down?"

She gestures weakly towards the couches, and I notice her hands are shaking slightly.

"No," says Harry immediately.

She breathes shakily and attempts to open her mouth. She struggles for a while, and I feel more and more protective as her suffering increases. After a while, she still hasn't said anything.

"It's okay, Hermione." I say. "I'll explain–"

"No Ron," she interrupts. "I'm the one that has to start."

I shake my head. "No you're not. We're both guilty, 'Mione, and I–"

"'_Mione?"_ Harry blurts out scathingly. "I don't believe this. . ."

Hermione ignores Harry with difficulty and says, "Yes I am, Ron. I'm the only one that knows everything from the beginning."

She sighs heavily and falls back on the couch. She slumps her shoulders and wipes her eyes. After a complete minute she speaks, "I guess it started last year. . . when you asked me if I wanted to sleep with you."

She pauses and glances at Harry fearfully, who looks slightly taken aback.

"Are you telling me that this affair has been going on since _last year_?" he asks with a small note of apprehension in his tone.

"It's not an _affair_," I say, "it's more like–"

"–like _what?"_ demands Harry, cutting me off. He's glaring at me, with a look of someone who is discovering a whole new side of someone they thought they knew plastered on his face.

"It's more like. . .like. . .like. . ." but as I try to think of a different word, I can't seem to find one. What _was_ it exactly? It doesn't seem like an affair to me. . . An affair is when someone goes around with two boyfriends or girlfriends with one of them (or both) not knowing, isn't it? Hermione and I weren't having a totally-decided-upon relationship behind Harry's back; that's specifically what we decided _not _to do on the train.

What was it then, if not an affair? Were we friends with benefits? I don't _think _we were. . . I mean, maybe in the beginning, but later we got the "friends" part cleared up and out of the way. But still, in the beginning we weren't doing it just for physical pleasure. There was a reason behind it. A strange one, but a reason nonetheless.

It was more like–

"A favor," says Hermione, finishing both my sentence and thought. She looks at the floor as she says it, and doesn't seem to have the idea of raising her head any time soon.

Harry narrows his eyes again, the anger and disgust growing more and more evident on his face, but signs of confusion also making their appearance. "_A favor?"_ he drawls, "What's that supposed to mean?" he rounds on Hermione, "That you _asked _him to have a relationship behind my back? Or did _he _ask _you?"_

"It wasn't a relationship!" Hermione blurts out. "It was a one-time thing! Well, that's how it was meant to be. . ." she trails off feebly.

I see a flicker of utter betrayal pass through Harry's eyes. He looks from Hermione to me, to Hermione and back again. "_What _was a 'one time thing'?"

I open my mouth to respond, but Hermione talks first, "Ron and me! The whole thing!" she says, her voice shaky and sounding harassed.

Harry sighs, sounding hassled as well. "Yes, but _what _exactly was it?" he demands in desperate kind of fashion. "Was it a kiss, a make-out session, or. . . or something more?"

Fear stabs me in the stomach. I glance at Hermione to see her looking frightened as well.

Lord. Harry's _this _mad and he doesn't even know exactly what kind of cheating it was that Hermione and me did. He thought we were having a relationship behind his back, in which what we probably did the most was just kiss. This is bad.

Hermione's hands and knees are shaking. I can feel myself shaking a bit too, though I don't think it's as noticeable as Hermione.

I take a deep breath. "Harry, how do you know about all this?" I ask, trying to get a few things cleared.

"Through the lockets," Hermione says quietly, answering for him. "I made a mistake with them, Ron."

Oh. So that explains how he doesn't know. I reckoned that if Ginny had told him, maybe she had given him a farfetched theory. Though honestly, the truth is more farfetched.

"Well what was it!" Harry snaps loudly. "Stop stalling and tell me!"

I swallow. I'm really not feeling as confident as I felt when I walked in here. Now I feel terrible and horrified by this whole scenario. The more and more we tell Harry, the more guilty I feel. And we've hardly told him anything at all.

"Harry, it was. . ." Hermione starts to say, but she trails off.

"What?" he asks, and I can hear the fear in his voice again. He doesn't want her to say it.

"It wasn't just kissing," she says in a tiny voice. "It was. . . more. Harry I'm–"

Before she finishes her sentence Harry drops himself into a sofa-chair. He's breathing deeply and quickly. "I don't believe this." he says, sounding truly hurt for the first time. "I figured if you'd betrayed me you wouldn't go too far. Both of you. Guess I was wrong."

Hermione bursts into tears. I feel my own eyes getting a little moist, but I don't dare allow tears to form. I can't believe how badly this is turning out. I look at Harry to find him wearing the world's worst expression. He looks blank, but his lip is quivering. It's the face of someone who's both betrayed and ashamed.

_Probably ashamed of our friendship._

"So," he says after a while, "you had sex as a 'favor,' did you?"

We nod, neither of us looking at him.

"And who did who the favor?" he asks, the anger returning to his words.

"I asked Ron to do it," Hermione says with a small sob.

Harry's eyes widen slightly. Obviously, he hadn't expected this. He thought it was me who asked Hermione.

_Since it's so fuckin obvious to him that I love her._

"Why?" he asks quietly.

"Because you just weren't the right one, Harry," she says with a sniff, but looking at him in the face. "I didn't feel like you were the person I should lose it to."

He frowns, hurt and not understanding. "Why not?" he asks. "What did I ever do wrong?"

She looks away, pained at these words. "Nothing. I just never fell for you. I never loved you. Not like that."

"Never?" he asks, suddenly indignant. "You were _never _interested in me romantically?"

She shakes her head.

"Then what the _hell_ did you go out with me for?" he yells, getting up and quickly regaining his angry attitude. "Why would you _do _that?"

She gapes at him for a few moments, unable to speak.

"Harry," I say quietly, "you're scaring her–"

"_I'm _scaring _her?"_ he shouts, every word sounding more outraged than the last. "_I'm _the one who should be terrified! I'm standing here wondering if you two really _are _who you say you are! I'm standing here asking myself if you two could possibly be impostors–"

"Harry _stop!"_ I yell, feeling fed up. "You'll never get a decent word out of either of us if. . .if. . ."

Suddenly saying "if you're not nice" sounds really stupid, and I shut my mouth feeling like a complete moron.

He waits for a moment, then turns away from me and rounds on Hermione again. "Well are you planning on telling me why you got into a relationship with me or not?" he asks savagely.

She looks away with a scorned expression. "I was just trying to get over Ron. I was trying to fall for someone else."

At these words, Harry looks angrier and more offended than ever. It isn't the kind of anger that makes a person explode, though; it's the kind of anger that leaves a person speechless. He gapes at Hermione, looking stunned and pissed off. He shakes his head, as though trying to see if this is really real or not a dream.

"So basically," he says after a few moments, his voice shaking with rage, "you _used _me?"

Hermione looks at him desperately and shakes her head. "No!" she exclaims, standing up. "I wasn't _using _you, I was–"

"Hermione, don't deny it!" Harry blurts out angrily. "The words came out of _your _mouth, after all!"

"But my intentions weren't those!" she says desperately, her eyes watering again. "I was–"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouts, not letting her finish. "That's what you did, whether you want to admit it or not. You got into a relationship with me with no intention other than to get rid of your feelings for someone else. "

He looks at me and glares. Maybe out of hostility, I don't know.

"So, back to this 'favor.'" Harry says, waving one of his hands and looking up at the ceiling. "You asked Ron to sleep with you because I wasn't 'the one.'"

He turns his head to Hermione, who nods. "And you," he says, turning to me, "agreed."

I nod as well, not really able to come up with a comment.

He gives me a grim smile. "I guess you got tired of being the loyal one, huh?" he asks.

The question hits me right in the stomach, and I immediately feel more helpless than ever. With every second that passes I feel stupider and guiltier than ever. Where did all my confidence go?

Harry sighs, shaking his head to himself. Then he continues with what looks like difficulty, "And this happened right before Christmas, did it?"

I shake my head. "No. It happened last summer." I don't look at his reaction.

"_Last summer?"_ he asks, sounding more betrayed than ever. He looks to Hermione for confirmation.

She nods, wiping a fresh tear off her cheek. "I asked him to do this last spring," she says. "We planned it for the summer. That's why neither of us met up with you."

He's clenching his jaw tighter and tighter, and I can see a vain throbbing on the side of his head. "So why did my locket warn me before Christmas? And the day that you guys came back?"

"We did it again before the holidays," I answer quietly, "but it wasn't planned. It just happened."

He stares at me expressionless, then at Hermione.

She nods. "And the day we came back, Ron kissed me on the train," she says quietly, the sorrow in her voice apparent.

Without saying a word, Harry sits down and puts his chin on his hands, his arms propped on his knees. He rubs his eyes for a while, and for a moment I think he's crying, but then I see that he's just weary.

As I watch him, I feel terrible. Seeing him looking like this is so much harder than I thought it would be, knowing it's half my fault.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione says pleadingly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

He looks at her, seeming angry and hurt and tired and confused all at the same time. "I don't know what you were thinking either."

"I'm sorry, too." I say quietly, knowing it won't do any good.

"So am I," he says, looking straight at me. "I'm sorry. I'm not accepting your apology. Nor yours." he adds to Hermione, who lets a huge shocked sob escape her lips.

"Nothing you've told me is forgivable," he continues, looking at us both, and sounding as hurt as Hermione and I both feel. "You betrayed me. Both of you. And you did it more than once–"

"Oh come on, Harry," I say quietly. "You know you've done wrong too."

He glares at me. "The only wrong I ever did was to get into a relationship with a girl who had no interest in me–"

"–and a girl in whom you knew your best friend was interested, too," I say, not letting him get away with feeling completely innocent.

He narrows his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ron."

"Yes you do," I say, still quietly. "You always knew how I felt about Hermione, and yet you still didn't hesitate to take her away from me."

He scoffs slightly and shakes his head at me. "Ron, you never even admitted to me that you loved Hermione," he says. "Not even to yourself, probably. After a while, I really started to believe in your denial, you know. It's _your_ fault."

"You _never_ believed my denial, Harry!" I say loudly, startling myself and the others. "That's why you always saw me as competition, whether you'll admit it or not! That's why you never liked me talking about Hermione! That's why you got her that locket! You _knew."_

I stand here, giving Harry a look full of emotion. Though I'm not sure which emotion exactly. Maybe betrayal. Maybe a yearning for answers. Maybe hurt. I don't know.

"I'll admit I knew you guys were off, that's why I _did _buy her the locket," he says. "I knew something was up. You weren't yourselves. And I'll admit that I sometimes wondered about your feelings for her; I'll admit that there was a period when I was _sure _I knew how you felt about her, but that still doesn't make what you did okay. It doesn't justify it."

"It makes us even, as far as I'm concerned," I say, now sounding cold and venomous.

Hermione stands up, looking lost and confused, following the argument.

"How do you figure that?" Harry demands, equally as coldly.

"You consciously took someone away from me, knowing how I felt about them. That's betrayal. Then, I took her back, though I doubt that you feel the same way for her as I do," I explain. The whole time I say this, I look Harry straight in the face.

He narrows his eyes even more than they are now. "_Ron," _he says disbelievingly, "if you felt that way, you could've _talked _to me about it! You didn't have to betray me! If I did betray you, I wasn't _conscious _about it! It never crossed my mind! What you did to me, can _only _be looked upon as betrayal. _You _knew what you were doing. Hermione gave you a crazy proposal, and you accepted. There's no excuse, and I don't forgive you."

"Harry, please–" Hermione starts to plea, but is cut off by Harry.

"Just stop, Hermione." he says, ashamed. "I'm not going to forgive you, so just do yourself a favor and keep the little dignity you have left to yourself."

He looks at us both, tears now clearly visible in his eyes, and leaves.

**(J)(U)(N)(E)**

After our confrontation, Harry didn't talk to either us for the rest of the year. He spent all his time alone, not bothering to make new friends. The only person he talked to was Ginny, but very little. Whenever he saw us, he just looked away. If we ever found ourselves alone in the room with him, he would leave. It was, and still is, perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with neither me nor Hermione.

And I guess I can understand. He was right. I should have talked to him. I should have said, "Harry, why did you ask Hermione out? Don't you know how I feel about her?" Sure, the question would have probably caused an angry and awkward row, but I'm positive that it would've been better than the fight we ended up having.

I sigh and throw some of my clothes into my suitcase. I need to finish packing. We leave Hogwarts in two hours. I throw all the contents in my dresser drawers into my suitcase and walk over to my bedside table. I take off the photographs of Harry, Hermione, and I and place them carefully inside my trunk. I look at a photograph of Hermione alone, looking particularly pretty and linger on it.

Hermione and I didn't start a relationship. We couldn't. We _can't. _Not after the fact that we lost Harry because of what we did. We're still friends, though, just like we promised we would be, but we've had frequents fights. Sometimes we fight over small things and sometimes over important things.

Still, most of them are probably caused by just the hurt and anger that we have to live like this. We make up from them pretty quickly, but they hurt our friendship and are starting to create a big wall between us. At this rate, we'll be acquaintances in a year or two, and after that, we probably won't even keep contact with each other.

It's sad. I put the picture neatly inside my trunk with the others and start to put some other things inside it.

Sometimes it seems unfair that we have to pay a price so big for just one mistake. A mistake that most of the time, doesn't even feel like a mistake.

I sigh again.

I mean, I _know _that what we did was a terrible thing to do to a wonderful friend, but I really feel like I was tricked and cheated by fate. Why did such a big mistake have to be driven by such a noble feeling as love? _Why? _Why do I have to feel so bad for something that felt so right? Why do Hermione and I have to lose so much? We lost our best friend, and now we're losing each other.

It just doesn't seem fair. It was all supposed to end right. Harry was supposed to understand. He wasn't supposed to say all the things he said. He was supposed to say, "Nothing can change the fact that the three of us saved the world and that we have the greatest friendship that ever existed! We'll get through this."

The door to the dormitory opens and Hermione walks in, looking saddened, but trying to act cheerful.

"Are you almost finished?" she asks me with a forced smile.

I nod. "Just nearly," I reply with the same false happiness. I look at her and give her back a smile, though I think it looks pained, because she frowns slightly for a millisecond.

"Good," she says, "because we're supposed to give our keys back to McGonnagal as soon as we're sure that we won't have to come back in here."

I nod again but don't say anything. She sits on the edge of her bed, biting her lip and staring down at the floor. I continue to pack my belongings, fully aware that Hermione keeps glancing at me every other minute. We stay like this in silence for about a half hour while I finish gathering up all my belongings from around the dorm. When I close my trunk and suitcase, she speaks.

"I'm really going to miss you after we leave, you know." she says, so quietly, that I almost don't hear her.

I look at her and see that her eyes are brimming with sad tears. My heart starts thudding madly, the aching of it hurting me more than ever.

"I'll miss you too," I say, and I walk over to her and give her the biggest hug I've ever given anyone. We embrace for a while, I'm not sure how long, feeling the warmth and desire that we have for each other. I stroke her hair gently and feel even angrier at fate.

When we get out of here, the chances we'll have of seeing each other often are very slim. Hermione's going to study to be a Healer and I'm going to train to be an Auror. Our schools are far apart, and even though we could easily Apparate to see each other whenever we feel like it, the truth is that both of these careers are no easy challenges.

Studying to be a Healer is going to take up almost all of Hermione's hours. The classes are going to be at crazy times, as they take place in both classrooms and in actual hospitals helping patients. When she's not under official guidance and instruction, she'll be spending time at home, studying on her own.

As for me, I'm going to have to dedicate all my time to training physically and mentally for my job. I'm going to have to take classes too, but I'm also going to have to set my own hours to train myself up. To face different kinds of creatures and battle specific kinds of spells.

Neither of us are going to have time for much of a private life.

We let go finally and just look at each other. I place my forehead on hers and close my eyes. I can feel her breathing right on my face, and again I wonder why I can't be allowed to just kiss her.

"We're going to keep in touch, aren't we?" she asks fearfully, opening her eyes and looking right into mine.

She's obviously worrying as much about our friendship as I am. I smile at her.

"I'll keep in touch with you as long as you make an effort to do the same," I say.

She laughs and smiles. "I will."

"And if you forget," I continue, "I'll just write to you and remind you about it. Or I'll pop into your place and demand an explanation."

We laugh at this and then let go of each other completely. We hear the door to the common room open, and a second later, four house elves enter our dorm to take our things down.

"Pardon," one squeaks. "Are you quite finished packing?"

I nod and tug on Hermione's sleeve. We leave the elves to do their work, then make our way down to Professor McGonnagal's office. We give her our keys and she bids us goodbye, surprisingly in a warm fashion and with tears in her beady eyes.

Later we say bid goodbye to everyone else, as we leave the end-of-term feast, which we missed the beginning of. It really is heart-wrenching to have to say goodbye to this castle, to the halls, to the paintings, to the people (those who we liked and even those who we didn't), to the food, to the customs, the teachers, and everything else, without the person who made this place so great to be in a majority of the time.

Yet as everyone leaves the castle and heads towards the carriages however, I get the shock of my life. As I start to help Hermione into one of the carriages, someone taps me on the back. I turn around, ready to say goodbye to someone I must have forgotten, and gape as I see that it's Harry standing in front of me, looking grim and struggling with something.

Hermione turns around, awaiting for me to mount the carriage when she sees Harry. Her eyes widen at the sight of him, as do mine.

He smiles wryly and says, "I need a word."

**A/N: This is such a sad chapter, I almost cried. You guys will be getting the last chapter of this story hopefully sometime before Sunday.**


	13. Not Completely

**A/N: The last chapter. I'm going to really miss this story. Thanks for the reviews as always. I treasure them all. **

**PS– I don't know how many of you saw this one coming, but the last chapter is in Harry's POV (as it was destined to be from the beginning).**

_Secrets_

Chapter XIII: Not Completely

**-One Year, Two Months Later-**

_Dear Harry,_

_I've gotten my results for my first year of Healer training and guess what–I'm going onto the next phase with honors! I'm so pleased with myself Harry, I can't tell you! This last year has been so tough, and I really seriously thought I was going to fail. I mean, it really wouldn't have been too far-fetched; top students from other schools failed horribly, and at the beginning, I honestly thought I was going to be one of them._

_I just feel so relieved that this year is over. I'll finally have time to rake showers and eat and sleep without having to constantly think so much about school. This next year is supposed to be harder, but easier on my schedule. For the first four months, I'll be learning more about illnesses and such, and for the last six months I'll be an intern at St. Mungo's as a nurse and Healer's assistant. _

_Anyway, I'll drop by to your apartment this Saturday to celebrate and to help Ron unpack his things. I can't believe you two are going to be living together–what a disaster!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

**----------**

_Hey Harry!_

_I'm almost done with everything over here; I just have to finish all this paperwork with my landlord, (Muggles, they complicate everything) and then I'll be set to move in. I still can't believe we're gonna be roommates! It's gonna be wicked. _

_Anyway, I just heard from Hermione, and she's doing great! We're all gonna meet up on Saturday. It'll be so much fun, I can't wait. I'm so happy we're gonna be able to spend much more time together now, the three of us. It just seems so awesome. Though, I have to admit, I am a little bit nervous about transferring to a new academy. But with you there, I'm sure it'll be great._

_From,_

_Ron_

**----------**

I put the letters down after reading them and smile a little wearily. I'm still not used to getting these completely friendly letters from Ron and Hermione. I like them, but I'm just not accustomed to getting them yet, even though it's already been a year with steady mail from them. I look around my living room and sigh. In a few days, Ron's going to be moving in. We're going to be roommates, studying at the same academy together.

The thought is strange, but welcoming. I sit here on my couch for a few minutes, not thinking of anything in particular, just taking in life and its ways of working. . .

It's _bizarre_ the way life works.

One year I'm living as a Muggle with the Dursleys, the next I'm attending a magical school with a best friend, the next I'm attending it again and defeating an evil man, and it continues that way for several years, then I find out that my two best friends have betrayed me and spend the last half of my last school year alone. All the phases I've gone through are so completely different from one another, it honestly doesn't even feel like they're part of the same life. The changes in all of them are so huge that whenever I look back at those periods, it feels like I was either living in a different person's body, or living a different life.

I mean, for the first five years that I knew Ron and Hermione, we were just a trio, always there for one another and just friends. We bickered and joked and did all those things that friends do. And I was happy with that I guess, but then I started to feel a little differently about Hermione, and at the end of our fifth year at Hogwarts I asked her out.

That began a whole different phase. We were still a trio, but now there was a romantic relationship among us. Hermione and I would go on dates and spend time alone. Our body language changed and we did things like kiss and hold hands and whisper in each other's ears. We were both still very close to Ron, but we had an official relationship completely separate from him. Ron knew that there were times when we were to be left alone.

I liked that part of my life. It was nice. My social life was simple, cozy, and best of all, comforting. With Voldemort still alive, it was nice to have a best friend and girlfriend. So, it really was nice.

But that's all it was.

I _did_ forgive Ron and Hermione. Not completely, I admit, but we are doing fairly well with our friendship. Of course, we're not nearly as close as we were before all of this happened, so we're mainly on "reparation" mode right now. We're basically just trying our best to making everything go as close to the way it was as we possibly can.

It hasn't been easy trying do it either. Hermione's always busy and she's only managed to meet up with Ron and me four times in the past year, and the longest she stayed was an hour. Ron only managed to see me six times, and two of them were because our Auror training had coincided at the same time and place. And it wasn't like I had much time to spare myself. So mainly, our communication has been through letters like the two I've just received.

We've said a lot of things to each other: things that needed explanations, feelings that needed to be shared, and motives that needed to be cleared. Sometimes I wish that we had said all those things face-to-face and out loud rather than in letters, but realistically, writing things down makes things easier and we get to express ourselves the best way possible. When I write my letters, sometimes I'm in such a hurry to send them that I almost decide not to go over them, but I always do.

And I'm glad about that. I reread what I write and I almost always make corrections with wording or eliminating and adding sentences. I'm glad I get this opportunity, because I really get to say what I feel and my intentions come across the way I want them to. Sometimes I come off as really resentful and I always change that. I really _do_ want to make things work between all of us.

It was _me _who decided to give us all that chance, after all.

The reason, or _reasons _I should say, I forgave Ron and Hermione were all pretty simple. After our argument, I didn't walk out of that room completely sure that everything I said was right. The truth is, Ron was completely correct when he said that I knew all along how he felt about her. I always knew Ron had a special place for Hermione in his heart. Always.

When we were younger, before Hermione I were a couple, I sometimes went as far as to tease him about it. Not severely or seriously, and not often either, but still, I _did _joke about it and I always knew that there was something significant about the way he'd turn a little pink and get quiet.

What's more, I always kind of suspected that Hermione felt the same way. She always seemed to really want to know where Ron was, what he was doing, what he thought about something, etc. She also seemed to have a special place for him inside her. However with her, I wasn't ever completely sure about how she felt. She was never as easy to read as Ron. She was always more complex.

But even though I was aware of their feelings, I never really came to terms with them. The thoughts were always in the back of my mind. The reason I asked Hermione out was because I really _did _like her, and I really _did_ suspect that Ron had gotten over her. The only thing that made me hesitate was that I wasn't sure if she felt the same way about me, so when I told Ron that I never thought it would betray him, I really was telling the truth.

Still, when I saw his reaction to our relationship I knew something was up. All the signs of their attraction came back once Hermione and I became a couple. I should have confronted them about it. It's just that whenever I was actually alone with Ron or Hermione, it didn't seem like anything fishy or conspiratorial was going on. Ron acted like my friend; Hermione behaved like my girlfriend. It didn't feel like anything was going to change those two simple relationships. It seemed like they both accepted their relationships with me too.

The thing was though, that even though Hermione and I had a nice relationship, I was never _in love _with her. I _did_ really like her and I liked being her boyfriend, but in all honesty, what I liked the most about our relationship was that no matter how dangerous times were, she'd always be there for support and comfort. But the more days that passed, the less romantic my feelings were for her.

In truth, the only reason I asked her to make that next move for our relationship was because I wanted to reignite our spark. I thought that we were just like all other couples who eventually become bored and tired with one another and need something to put the romance back in their relationship. The real reason for the rut in our relationship was that neither of us were really in love with each other and the act can't be pulled off for such a long time.

Going back to the beginning, the fact that I had always somewhat suspected their feelings for one another made me feel immensely guilty. When I really look at it, it was a really messed up thing to do to a friend. If it had been me, I would have been completely livid to find out that my best friend had asked out a girl who I liked. Especially if I knew that they knew.

I don't really know how Ron tolerated it, and that's why part of me still says that hey, it wasn't _my _problem that he had been too much of a coward to speak up. But it goes back to the fact that once Ron's feelings had clearly shown after my announcement, I should have said something. Something had to be said, and if he didn't speak up, then _I_ should've come out and said something.

I sigh and read the letters again for the third time.

In our letters we made it really clear to each other that if we were all willing to make an effort, we would try to as hard as we could to make things work. Ron and I decided to be roommates. He said it would be better for him to move into my flat instead of the other way around.

He says that it's because he really wants to be in my school instead of the one he attended for the last year. I guess I could buy that. My school does have a better reputation and methods of training. Ron also claims that he hates living in a predominantly Muggle neighborhood where doing the tiniest bit of magic is a complication. I guess I could pretend to go along with that too; training to be an Auror requires a lot of at-home practice, and living in an area infested with people who can't see anything or hear anything strange, really complicates things.

But I know better. The real reason he wants to move here is because Hermione lives about twenty minutes away. Even though he could Apparate to her from a distance, I think the idea of her living nearby comforts him. There's also more of a possibility that they'll run into one another around town doing everyday things.

I shake my head slightly.

They're not a couple yet, but it's only a matter of time. Every time I've been with them I catch them glimpsing at each other and laughing a little awkwardly, like they're falling in love for the first time. And when they greet each other, the hugs are always a little too long. The last time I saw them, I accidentally saw them kissing outside my apartment from my window. It was scary.

Anyhow, last week they went out on a date. They didn't give me many details (barely any, actually), which I'm extremely grateful for, but I have a feeling that it went well. We're all still pretty awkward about everything that happened, and even though we all know that they're eventually going to get together, I think it'll be a good while until we'll all feel completely comfortable with it.

I won't object to it of course, but I just think that I'm going to need some time to adjust to the reality of the situation, and feel comfortable watching them hold and hands and kiss and do all of those other things Hermione and I used to do. I don't have any feelings for her or anything, but I think it's fair to say that no guy would be happy watching their ex-girlfriend making out with another guy, much less their best friend– _especially _if she cheated on the guy with said best friend.

But no, I wouldn't dream of objecting; another reason why I forgave them was because I couldn't stand to see them so miserable and apart because of me. About three months of debating with my feelings on the matter, the truth is, I came to accept the fact that they really were (_are_) in love with each other. Watching them looking at each other in such a longing fashion both sickened me _and_ made me feel guilty.

My feelings on this are still very conflicting and the debate within me still hasn't finished. The human side of me feels the way any other person would feel: resentful, bitter, and angry. I mean, they were my _best friends._ How can it be possible that they of all people betrayed me the hardest? It's not a small pill to swallow.

It's a hell of a lot to take in. First, I have to deal with the way that their characters completely changed, next, I have to deal with the shock of knowing that the past three (almost four) years have been full of lies and deceit, and _finally _I have to steady myself from the even bigger shock of what they did to me.

_But,_ then my _noble_ side tells me to look at things realistically. First of all, Ron and Hermione have been there with me through everything, almost dying for me on numerous occasions. They've vowed their loyalty to me repeatedly and never let me down. They've been my best friends through everything. The fact that they betrayed me like this can only bring me to two conclusions: either they were never really my friends, or they had a damn good reason to do what they did.

The first conclusion isn't very plausible–why would someone put their life on the line for someone they don't truly care about? Seems a little too farfetched to me. So that leaves the second conclusion, and I guess that their damn good reason would be that they truly felt about each other the way they said they do.

Most regular people in life would tell me that cheating is something that should never be forgiven, and that to give in to it only shows weakness. But honestly, we're not regular people. We've gone through things that most regular people can only imagine. We have a different kind of bond, and listening to a normal person seems a little impractical.

Something I _do _understand though, is that bad things happen in life, and cheating is one of them. In all honesty however, one has to admit, no matter how painful it might be, that love _is _sometimes involved with it. Sometimes the reason for cheating isn't really a cheap, immature reason. Every once in a while, people cheat because they _are_ honestly in love with someone else.

I completely despise the fact that those statements are true. It would be so much easier if they weren't, then I could resent them in peace. Instead, I'm left to resent them with slight guilt. I guess that on top of everything, I have to admit that I did tend to forget the fact that Ron and Hermione shared a relationship in which I wasn't involved. I was perfectly aware of my separate relationship with both of them, but I never actually acknowledged the one they had without me. So who am I to stand in their way?

In the end, I guess that even though I've made the decision to get over it and try to see it from their point of view, I don't think I'll ever _completely _get over it. I just can't help it. Sometimes I just keep telling these things to myself again and again, only to find myself thinking along the lines of: _But how **could **they? It's **me! **Harry! Their best friend!_

And I don't think I should have to feel guilty about that. Betrayal leaves a permanent mark.

I'm willing to live with that.

My main, _main _reason for forgiving them is the simplest of all: I wanted them back. I'm just not complete without those two. They were my first family, and still continue to be a strong part of my family. That's what we always were: family. We still are.

Families all have fall-outs, don't they? This is ours, I guess. Like I said before, our bond isn't a normal one. We really can get over anything. And after they've repeatedly put their necks on the line for me, I think they deserve a second chance.

Feeling tired, but satisfied, I pick up my quill and write:

_Hey you both,_

_You'll be receiving the same letter because you prats wrote a little too late into the night for me to have the energy to write separate replies._

_First, congratulations Hermione! I'm glad that all your hard work paid off and that you'll be getting the training you deserve. But honestly, you fail? Are you crazy? I bet none of those top-students you mentioned are even half as smart as you. You should know better than all of us that no academic challenge is really a challenge for you. I look forward to seeing you to celebrate._

_And Ron, I honestly cannot wait for you to move in. This apartment is way too big and quiet for me. I need someone to come in here and untidy it up a bit. I need someone to make some noise! Seriously mate, we are going to have the best days we could ever ask for. Two grown men, still full of youth, and with no curfew! And don't worry about the new school–you'll do great._

_I'm looking forward to seeing you both._

I look at the letter and smile. Then, with a feeling of strange happiness I add:

_PS- And I really mean that._

_**-Fin-**_

**A/N: Oh God. . .it's really over. I feel really heavy-hearted right now. Okay, better get this over with. First, I'd like to say that I hope you all enjoyed the ending. I originally had two endings written: this one, and one in which Harry completely refused to forgive them. I know some of you were hoping that he wouldn't forgive Ron and Hermione, but. . .I did. I just wouldn't feel satisfied with a sad ending because. . .I hate them. And it's my party and I'll cry if I want to (in other words, it's my fic and I'll end it how I please).**

**No really, I'm sorry to all of those who are disappointed, but I hope you liked this anyway.**

**Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone who read this story, and double thanks to all those who reviewed, I loved all the comments. I'll really miss this story, but I doubt that I'll ever write a sequel because I just don't know where I would take it from here. I'll be writing another story in the future, but not too soon. Now, I'll just be enjoying my summer knowing that I don't have to update a story.**

**Good night, and goodbye!**


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